


Stay Gold

by FigsForThistles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1971882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FigsForThistles/pseuds/FigsForThistles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>University AU. Louis, Zayn and Niall are roommates in Providence, RI, just trying to get their lives together. Harry's a public health student having trouble with the hard sciences, and Louis is a nursing major who spends entirely too much time in his own head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Louis pulled his beat up sedan into the parking lot behind the apartment building and groaned to himself. The only spots open in the lot were parallel to the curb, and even after two years of driving on the opposite side of the road and the car, he still hadn’t quite got the hang of parallel parking from his weak side. He finally managed the feat after several tries and felt quite satisfied with himself. 

Louis grabbed his messenger bag from the passenger seat and yanked hard on the door handle to his Civic, fighting with the sticky latch. The cold, late November air rushed in to curl up around his ankles, and he shivered dramatically. Providence was unforgiving from around the middle of November to late March, and Louis wasn’t looking forward to his fourth frigid winter in Rhode Island. He slammed the door to his car loudly and fumbled to lock it, his fingers slow and clumsy with cold. 

The walk up to his apartment building-an old six-family apartment structure that was dilapidated and in need of fresh paint-was littered with empty food wrappers and cigarette cartons. His neighborhood of Providence wasn’t the most post, or clean (or safe for that matter), but it had been the only home he knew in the States, and the salty New England atmosphere spoke to him on a spiritual level. Dry skeletons of leaves skittered across his path as he approached the door, hunched against the wind. 

Louis entered the flat he shared with his two best mates with a sigh of relief. It was nice being on the first floor when it meant he could just dart into his foyer away from the cold and didn’t have to bother with flights of stairs. He kicked off his shoes onto the rack right inside the door and dropped his messenger bag on the table. 

“Lucy, I’m home!” He called, searching for his roommates. Zayn and Niall weren’t in the kitchen, but their presence was made obvious with the crusty bowls in the sink and the cigarette butts smoldering in the ashtray on the table. 

“In here, mate!” Zayn shouted from their tiny living room. It was their favorite place to congregate, the three of them. It was in a garret on the corner of the structure, with a beat up couch, futon and entertainment system on the hexagonal walls. Zayn was perched on the couch; sketchpad on his lap (though to be fair, he wasn’t drawing, he was rolling a spliff), and Niall was sprawled out over the futon, surrounded by his laptop and various crisp packets. Louis plopped down on the couch next to Zayn and curled his legs underneath his body. 

“Remind me again why I’m in nursing school?” Louis asked mournfully as he cracked his neck and massaged his temples, mind flitting back to his morning classes and the sheer bulk of information he needed to retain. 

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment?” Niall offered. 

Louis sighed dramatically. “Excuse you, you’re meant to say it’s because I’m a selfless, saintly being.”  
Zayn chuckled in his raspy way, and Louis looked over at him fondly. The two had been best mates for almost as long as he could remember. They went back all the way to his primary school days, when the two of them were terrors on the playground and in the classroom. Niall had joined them somewhere around sixth form, and they’d been an utterly inseparable trio ever since. God, he didn’t know what he’d do without them. The three had packed up and moved to America straight out of school and were each other’s rocks through all the various culture shocks that ensued (parallel parking! Dunkin Donuts!). They’d all three enrolled in college in Providence—the original plan was to all go to Brown, but their Ivy League dreams had been dashed rather quickly. They’d compromised with Rhode Island College, and had managed to find their footing more or less. 

Zayn lit the spliff and puffed on it distractedly. “So lectures go all right, then?” he asked. Zayn had the privilege of being an art student who didn’t have to go to class until at least five in the evening, something that Louis was eternally envious of. 

“Yeah, I suppose. Lot of chemistry right now and you know how I feel about that.”

“And this is why I’m an accounting major,” Niall said, a smile evident in the corners of his tone. “Everything’s simple, like.”

“You know, Niall, not all of us think math is easy and enjoyable. Most sane people I know actually detest math,” Louis countered. 

“All I’m saying is you’re not going to ever have to clean up any bodily fluids from studying finance.”

“I suppose you do have a point with that,” Louis said, crinkling his nose at the memory of a sponge bath he gave during his clinicals yesterday. It’s not as if he hated it all, interacting with patients, helping them in any way he could-if he hated it he was definitely in the wrong major. It was just that the academics came a lot easier to him: memorizing dosages and diagnostic codes, learning about stroke response times and the finer workings of cardiac catheterization. When it came to practicing what he learned, though, he got nervous, too caught up in his own head. He was petrified of making a mistake and altering someone’s life irreparably. 

He felt his mind drifting to what he’d gone through when he first arrived in the States, but willed himself not to pause and think about it. Not today. Zayn passed him the spliff, and Louis accepted it gratefully. He tried to let the tension flow out of him like the smoke from his lungs, and marginally succeeded. 

A familiar silence settled over the room, the kind of silence that works when people have been friends long enough to feed off each other’s energy, not their conversation. MTV was playing on the TV, the volume low and tinny sounding. The spliff made its rounds, relaxing each of the boys in turn. The white-hot thread of pain that raced through Louis’ shoulder whenever he was tense slowly burned out, and he found himself following the leaves blowing through the foggy air. This time of year used to make him melancholy, when everything died and slept and went quiet. He didn’t deal with the quiet too well, before. His thoughts always got too loud and crept through his mind, tangling toxic fingers in every corner. He had a tendency to let himself get lost in the sea of his emotions, and nothing brought that out like the quiet slide from autumn to winter. 

He felt Zayn’s eyes on him from the other side of the couch. He knew that his friend worried about him, hell, everyone did. He was just going to do his best not to let it get bad again, and maybe eventually they’d all stop looking at him like he could shatter at any moment. 

Niall broke the silence with his characteristic loudness, proclaiming his need for food. He’d always reminded Louis of a boom box, one emitting sound and light that everyone was drawn to. They balanced each other out well, Louis thought, even though his role in the trio had changed significantly. Zayn was still the soulful artist, Niall still the Irish force of nature, but Louis was different now. Before, he’d been the clown, the first one to crack a joke and never one to take anything too seriously. 

He saw things in a different light these days. He’d crawled through hell and came out the other side. He was learning that he didn’t have to drown his emotions out in sarcasm and snark, and that he didn’t have to sink in them when things got to be too much to bear. Louis enjoyed the quiet now. Being alone with himself was something he was working on, but he figured practice made perfect. 

Niall migrated to their kitchen, banging around the cupboards and fridge and generally filling the flat with the soundtrack to domesticity. Zayn stretched languidly and rose from the couch, cocking his head at Louis in silent communication. The pair trailed into the kitchen, leaving the TV to flash and chatter at an empty room. 

“Anyone game for a fry up?” Niall asked, greasing a skillet he’d placed on one of their burners. 

Louis agreed eagerly, always willing to be fed. He was rather hopeless in the kitchen, unfortunately. Just another way he was flailing through his early adulthood, able to burn a pot of water. 

“Nah, I’m good, mate.” Zayn said, shuffling to the fridge and pulling out a styrofoam takeaway container. Louis watched him pop open the lid with mild interest, which morphed into wild jealousy. 

“You didn’t tell me you went to Al Mal’s!” he cried, accusation ringing in his voice. A Pakistani family ran the restaurant hiding behind a petrol station and they had the absolute best shawarma Louis had ever encountered in his life. Zayn’d taken to the Al Mal family like a long-lost relation, and whenever they had a chance to make it over to the east side, the trio stopped by for delicious food, hookah, and Arabic coffee. 

“Sorry, mate. I was up at RISD earlier and I couldn’t resist.” Zayn said, chuckling. “If it makes you feel any better, I brought sambusak for you and Niall.” Louis launched himself off his post leaning up against the wall and engulfed his friend in a hug. 

“This is why we keep you around, Zayner.” 

“Oh, are you sure its not for me good looks and roguish charm?” Zayn laughed, the sound bright in the dimly lit room. 

“Oi! I’m over here slaving away over a hot stove, day in and day out,” Niall started before Louis trotted over to him and wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“Niall dear, you know we appreciate everything you do for us. If it weren’t for you, me and Zayn would have starved to death ages ago.” It was true, Niall was the only one of the trio who could cook much that was edible (though his recipe arsenal mainly included breakfast food and pasta). Zayn made eggs for tea now and then, but Louis just stuck to delivery or whatever he was being fed by one of his roommates. 

Zayn lit a cigarette and huffed out smoke rings over the lid of his takeaway box. Louis made a needy noise and slunk over to Zayn, grabby hands reaching for a nicotine fix. Zayn obliged, passing him the menthol. Louis inhaled deeply, smoke curling into his lungs and sating his craving. He let his eyes follow Niall as he puttered around the stove, frying eggs and sausages, grease splattering merrily. 

The trio’s domestic habits were a source of immense comfort to Louis. His childhood had been…chaotic. His mum was, well, his mum is fragile. Louis didn’t understand it before, he used to get so angry when she’d shut down and disappear into herself for days, leaving Louis to care for his younger sisters. He understood it now, all right. And for all he wished to at least have some inkling of what his mother was going through, now he wished to God that he were as ignorant as he’d been when he was eighteen. He wished he didn’t get why his mother let herself be swallowed up by some all-consuming despair, why she’d remained glued in her chair, staring at the wall, while toddlers and preteens clamored around their house, like planets out of orbit.

So Louis really loved having Niall cooking unhealthy food at odd hours, and Zayn singing in the shower. He adored when he woke up in the witching hours and someone else was awake, smoke seeping out from under a bedroom door. Louis was so thankful he had roommates he could crawl into bed with and snuggle up against. It was platonic, and Louis adored it even still. Sometimes he just needed another warm body to be close to. Zayn was a quiet, steady force of warmth while Niall was a flailing ball of sunshine that thrashed about the bed like a wild animal.  
Niall reached for two mismatched plates and began plating his and Louis’ food. Louis passed the Marlboro back to Zayn and rubbed his hands together, eagerly anticipating nourishment. Niall passed him a plate and a fork, and Louis tucked in eagerly, before he even sat down at their cluttered table. Zayn slid fluidly into the chair next to him, tapping the ashes of his cigarette into a solo cup. 

“So, let’s talk about Thanksgiving, mates.” Louis said resolutely. He’d been the erstwhile advocate of assimilating into American culture (why the hell are they over here if they’re not going to participate?). “I figured we could actually do something this year and stick to a schedule, like.” The past two years they’d slept through the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and ended up grabbing takeout from a Chinese place. Louis was determined that this year would be successful. He couldn’t cook to save his life, but he could coordinate a party with the best of them. 

“You realize that you just volunteer people for tasks, right? That’s your idea of planning Thanksgiving, Tommo,” Niall pointed out good-naturedly. 

“Yes, I do, but can you fault me? It’s a charming tradition,” Louis said, a loving shade in his voice. He had a deep appreciation for any and all holidays. He shoveled piles of sausage and eggs in his mouth, his head drifting to centerpieces and decorations. In the middle of designing a particularly seasonal cranberry arrangement, Zayn broke his reverie by waving the cigarette in his face. Louis grabbed it and wrapped his lips around the filter, drawing smoke and blowing it in puffs toward Niall, like a dragon. 

Zayn got up, long limbs stretching toward the ceiling. “Well, lads, I’ve got class in less than an hour. Reckon I’d best be making my way to campus.” He trailed towards his bedroom, the last of the three off the hall. Louis continued shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming pace. Niall leaned against the counter and moved his food to his mouth at lightning speed. 

“So I figured we’d maybe hit up Federal Hill tonight, bar hop a bit,” Niall said conversationally. 

“Oh hey, moneybags, are you paying?” Louis asked. His income was scarce, picking up odd jobs here and there, walking dogs and driving kids to piano lessons. 

“I am actually, I got me dividends check from the distillery,” Niall’s family had a controlling interest in a whiskey distillery back in the motherland, and it came in handy every quarter when the dividends were mailed out.

“Sounds good. Gonna buy me some cocktails and get me all liquored up?” Louis asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. He couldn’t drink like he’s 19 anymore, sure, but he still enjoyed a night out on the town as much as the next man did. 

“Oh, you know it, boy-o” Niall said, clapping him on the shoulder soundly before banking off the counter and spinning to drop his plate in the already overflowing sink. 

“We gonna head out once Zayn gets back?” Louis asked, mentally mapping out his map.

“Yeah, figured we could pregame a bit here then walk up and hit the bars?” Niall suggested, grabbing a tall boy can of Guinness from the fridge. 

“Sounds fab,” Louis said, carrying his plate to the sink. He strayed towards his room, the last one on the end before the bathroom, and pushed open the door to reveal his space. He had posters on the wall, sure, and artfully disheveled bedding, but honestly, he only slept, smoked, and read in here. Louis’ room was his domain. He liked it that way, a space he could control. 

He flopped down on his bed and opened his laptop, refreshing pages here and there until he was satisfied with the array of tabs on his browser. Louis queued up some 21 Pilots and lay down on his bed, letting his eyes take in the landscape of his ceiling. It was a good life, he reassured himself. Things could be so much worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read so far! I'm having a lot of fun writing this, it's very cathartic.

“Could there be anything worse than this?” Louis shouted over the loud Top 40 mix that was currently pounding through the bar. 

“Come on, Tommo! Live a little!” Niall yelled back, cackling at the pained expression on Louis’ face. Louis just slammed back his drink in response, feeding his intoxication a bit more. Niall had been buying him double vodka cranberries all night (call it a girly drink around Louis, he dares you) and he was feeling proper sloshed. 

“It’s not that I don’t like Katy Perry, I just can’t handle “Dark Horse” for the twelfth time in a row,” Louis griped. The trio had settled into their usual booth at the Avery, just him and Niall for the first hour or so, with Zayn joining them after class. Niall, always a man of his word, was picking up the tab for the night and wheedling Louis into staying with vodka and bad jokes. 

Truth be told, the whole evening was just getting to be too much for Louis. Nothing bad had happened, he just felt off. Like there was something weird going on under his skin, a storm brewing in his soul. He got like this sometimes, stopped wanting company and pushing everyone away. He tries to tell himself that it’s normal to be a bit introverted now and then, but deep down Louis knew that these were warning signs, an alarm bell tolling somewhere in the distance. 

He felt his buzz taking a turn for the maudlin as John Legend crooned “All of Me” over an obnoxious dubstep beat. Honestly, couldn’t anyone appreciate a nice piano ballad anymore? His mood traveled further south as he scanned his friends’ carefree expressions. He wasn’t plastered, but he was solidly intoxicated at this point, and rational thought had gone out the window a couple drinks ago. It was just that Louis didn’t understand why it had to happen to him. Niall and Zayn moved from the same town, they’d all three gone to the same school, yet it was Louis who’d had all the trouble. It didn’t make sense, and most of all, it was unfair. Completely and utterly unfair. 

Louis knew he should stop drinking when the night started heading this way, but he couldn’t be bothered to keep his well-being in the forefront of his mind. It was much easier to drown his sorrows in vodka. He stood up abruptly and wobbled a bit, daring his friends to say something about his tolerance. 

“I need another,” Louis said, shaking the cocktail glass so the ice clinked loudly. “Anyone need a refill?” 

“Get another pitcher of beer!” Niall shouted as he shoved the empty Bud Light pitcher towards Louis, slurring his speech on “pitcher”. At least Louis wasn’t alone in being sozzled. Louis sighed dramatically and hoisted the pitcher off the table. 

“Anything for you, lads.” He pushed his way through the mass of sweaty collegiate bodies and up to the bar. He pushed the empty glass and pitcher toward the bartender, “I need another pitcher of Bud Light and…” he trailed off, assessing his sobriety a bit. “A shot of tequila, no training wheels.”

The bartender gave him an amused glance, one of the reactions he tended to get in this part for his accent. He tried to explain a couple time that he was from essentially the same part of England that he was now in in New England, but that tended to cause more confusion than it solved. Americans and their lack of geographical knowledge, Louis supposes. The bartender slid his drinks across the bar, and Louis slammed back his tequila shot without much hesitation. Fuck it, he’d regret it, maybe. Louis had been having a hard time caring about much, lately. 

He walked back to their booth and placed the pitcher on the table before flopping back onto the worn leather next to Zayn. 

“Want another?” the dark haired boy asked. Louis shook his head, thinking he really shouldn’t. His fringe flopped in his eyes, strands on the other side of acceptably greasy. Ugh. He needed a shower, it just took so much damn effort. He leaned into Zayn’s side, folding in on himself and resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. A cuddle would do him good right now. Zayn’s body heat radiated into Louis, and Louis quite felt like he was the sun. No, that wasn’t right. Zayn’s heat wasn’t bright and blinding, it was quiet and strong. Zayn was his nuclear reactor, burning hot and steady and just a tad dangerous. Louis looked across the table and decided that Niall was the sun, all white teeth and incandescent blue eyes. Louis wasn’t sure what he was. He felt like a worn-out raincloud most of the time, spent and defeated, but still floating around. 

Zayn and Niall made quick work of the Bud Light, drinking it down like water. Zayn nudged Louis to get him to scoot out of the booth. Louis got to his feet, not a bit unsteadily, and was on his way to the door before he decided that he had a pressing need to use the facilities. 

“Lads, I need the loo.” He took off, trailing one hand along the wall to steady himself as he made his way to the back of the bar. He was in luck, the door to the men’s room was open. No long waits for the loo, not tonight. He relieved himself in the dingy bathroom, leaning an arm on the wall and resting his head against it. He needed to sleep. It had been a long day. Louis zipped everything up and washed his hands, extremely thoroughly-nursing quirks. He spared himself a glance in the mirror, grimacing at the stubble on his cheeks and his long hair sticking out from under his beanie. His mum would have a conniption if she saw him looking this unkempt. Louis opened the door and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, and straight into a very broad, toned chest. 

“Oh, shit!” he mumbled, rocking backwards unsteadily. An awfully big pair of hands grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. The broad-chested stranger laughed, the sound low and deep in his chest. 

“Steady there, mate.” Louis’ head snapped up at the man’s accent, and he took in the most gorgeous specimen of humanity he’d encountered in some time. Possibly ever. 

He’d run into the physical embodiment of sex. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t even begin to describe the apparently lethal combination of long legs, dark chocolate curls and stormy green eyes that was standing before him with his hands literally clutching Louis’ shoulders. 

In his unending wisdom, Louis chose to blurt out the most eloquent sentence could have ever constructed in this situation. 

“Where are you from?” 

The other man’s face morphed into an expression of surprise as he heard a familiar Northern tilt affecting Louis’ British accent. 

“Cheshire,” he said, voice quiet and rumbly like distant thunder. Louis rather liked the thrill it set into his bones. The two stood there, staring at each other and he was still holding Louis, but then the spell was broken. A moment of awareness washed over their reverie and the warm hands dropped. 

“I…uh, sorry,” Louis mumbled. “I’m just gonna…go.” He ended breathlessly, like an absolute child. He ducked around the tall stranger, pleased that his small build had actually helped rather than hindered him in this situation, and made a beeline for his mates at the front doors of the bar. 

“Sorry, lads. Spaced out a bit,” he said by way of explanation. 

“C’mon, Lou, d’you think we missed you knocking back shots at the bar?” Niall asked, laughter edging around his words. 

Louis sulked, he’d been caught. “I don’t like drinking too much beer, you know that. It makes me bloated.” Niall smiled even wider and knocked his an oversized trainer against Louis’ right foot. 

“As if we care, mate.” Zayn nodded at this and pushed open the door. The trio headed out onto the sidewalk, wrapping scarves and turning up collars against the late night chill. Louis pulled a cigarette out of the pack of Camels he kept in the pocket of his coat and flicked his lighter, pulling the smoke into his lungs gratefully. He and Zayn walked side by side, passing the cigarette between each other as they listened to Niall ramble excitedly about cricket scores or something irrelevant like that. 

Louis surveyed the stars peeking through the wisps of cloud in the atmosphere above them. The lights from downtown made it hard to see too many, but he’d take what he could get. His mind wandered back to the man he’d run into. Apparently Mt. Olympus was in Cheshire. 

Their flat wasn’t far of a drive at all from the bars on Federal Hill, but they’d decided to walk, for safety’s sake and all that. There were enough bad drivers in Providence without adding drink-driving to the mix. There was about a half hour’s walk between them and the chaotic, cozy warmth of their flat overlooking Huron Street. 

Conversation turned to their finals, which were rapidly approaching. Louis had an untoward amount of studying he needed doing and Niall had project proposals and group work he had to do. Zayn, meanwhile, had a figure drawing portfolio to prepare for his illustration practicum. Louis missed the simplicity of freshman year when they’d all lived on campus and met up at the library for hours long study fests. They were too far along in their majors now to only have essays and exams, so their academic pursuits often took them in different directions. Louis had a cellular biology practical to prepare for later in the week, and he really wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Not to mention he had to write a wrap-up report on his clinical rotation at the VA hospital. He was well and truly glad to be done with it, honestly. Too many of the veterans had a dead look behind their eyes that Louis was afraid he understood too well. 

They rounded the corner from Regent Street onto Huron with the familiar litter-covered sidewalks illuminated by yellow streetlights. It wasn’t much, but it was home now, for better or for worse. Louis thought about the tattoo he’d gotten across his chest a few weeks earlier. It is what it is. He couldn’t change his lot now, he felt. And, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to. Things weren’t fabulous, but he was used to it at this point. He had coping skills, if not the best ones, and they worked for him. They worked for this. At least he was still alive, he reminded himself. 

The trio crowded up the concrete steps into the doorway of their complex. Zayn punched in the entry code on the doorknob and swung open the heavy red door. Louis fished his keyring from his pocket and slid it into the door to their flat, their system running like clockwork. Zayn always lost his keys and Louis had a hard time remembering what sequence of keys to press to actually let him type in the code (sometimes technology wasn’t his friend) so things worked well when they traveled together. 

The boys kicked their shoes into a pile by the door and shed jackets and scarves and gloves, trailing clothes like breadcrumbs all over the kitchen. Louis went to the sink and got himself a glass of water, guzzling it to stave off the worst of a hangover in the morning. Niall was digging through the fridge, and emerged with the container of sambusak. He began shoveling them in his mouth before shaking the carton at Louis, who grabbed a pasty and bit into it with relish. It was, as usual, delicious. Zayn was fiddling with the thermostat, wiggling the knob to get the heat to turn on. 

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” Zayn said. “Heard on the radio on the way back from class that it’s supposed to get below freezing.”

“That’s ok, Zayn, if you get cold you can just crawl into bed with me,” Louis replied, wiping the crumbs off his fingers on his jeans. 

“What about me, then!” Niall shouted, faking offense. Louis laughed as he chucked his Irish friend on the shoulder. 

“You hog the covers, Nialler, and you know it.”

Niall smiled good-naturedly and gave Louis a tight, one armed hug. “Not as if you’d let me forget it.”

Louis drained the last of his water and set the glass down on the counter. “Well, lads, it’s late and I’m proper sloshed. Reckon I’d best get some shut eye.” Zayn and Niall nodded, each engrossed in their respective routines (Niall, consuming more food and Zayn, rolling a nighttime joint). 

“Night, Tommo!” 

“G’night, Lou.”

Louis padded across the hardwood floor into his bedroom. He flicked on the light and picked his way across the floor, taking off his jeans and shedding his shirt in favor of a worn gray henley that he pulled over his tattooed arms and shoulders. Going to sleep was always a hit or miss activity, with him. Either he collapsed on the bed and was dead to the world within seconds, or it took him ages to drift off. 

He sat on his bed and crossed his legs, reaching into his bedside table for his bubbler and his stash of bud. He popped open the lid of the mason jar he kept his stash in and took out a few nugs, breaking them up in the palm of his hand. Louis packed the bowl of the bubbler and lit it, taking a long first hit. He held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling, watching it curl out in front of his eyes. Louis puffed away until the bowl was kicked, and he laid back against his pillows. He let his right hand idly trace his thigh, fingers dancing over the rope-like scars that marked his skin there. It had a weird affect of being very comforting to him, like he’d done this to himself and tried so hard to end it all but he didn’t, and he was still here. The scars reminded him that skin knits back together and the world can be pieced back into reality. Louis’ head lolled against his squishy pillows and he felt himself begin to drift off to sleep. He shifted on the bed and burrowed under the duvet. 

Louis was really drifting off into dreams when he felt an all-consuming feeling of terror wash over him. It felt like there was a boulder sitting on his chest and a hand over his nose. He couldn’t get air in and his hands were grabbing fistfuls of his sheets. Fuck panic attacks, he thought wildly. Louis felt like he was floating above his body, watching this all happen from above. He was detached and unable to do anything about it. Louis was never sure how long the weird split sensation would last, sometimes it was for only a few minutes and sometimes it was for the whole night. He hated it. He especially hated when it happened in conjunction with a panic attack. Louis remembered being told something about it when he was in hospital but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall the exact term. He tried to focus on his breath, throwing all his concentration into even breathing. Eventually, he was able to calm down enough to make a plan. He’d get out of bed and go to Zayn’s room, and most certainly not put on clothes and walk down the streets of west Providence smoking a cigarette at three in the morning, which is what he felt drawn to do. Whenever this sensation came over him, he was always at danger of doing something risky. It was like he had no control over his actions, and it was how he’d ended up with many of the scars on his thigh. 

He walked down the hall to Zayn’s room and tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. The dark haired boy was laying on his stomach in bed, watching something on his laptop. 

“Zayn? Can I come in?” Louis asked in a small voice. 

His friend’s eyebrows shot up but he nodded, shutting the computer and pushing himself off the bed. 

“Is everything alright, mate? You don’t look so good,” Zayn said, concern hinting in his voice. 

“I..I don’t know what’s wrong,” Louis admitted, looking down at the floor. “I just feel so weird, you know. Like I’m not really in control of what I’m doing and I’m watching this all happening from above.”

Zayn sighed and patted the bed next to him. “You know I hate to see you like this, Louis. It’s hard to watch. I don’t know how to help you and I hate feeling helpless.”

Louis crossed the room and sat down next to Zayn. “This helps. You don’t ask and you just let me work it out and you keep me company. Make sure I don’t do anything proper stupid.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a long-term solution, Lou. You can’t keep going on like this forever. It’s not living,” Zayn chided gently. 

“I know,” Louis moaned, sinking his head into his hands. “I just can’t take time off from school again, Zayn. I don’t have the time and I don’t have the money.” 

Zayn sighed again. “You’ve been saying that for a year, mate. I just wish you’d talk to someone.” 

Louis flopped over on the bed, covering his face with his hands. “Can we please not talk about this right now? I’m not in the right state.”

“Yeah, mate, whatever you want.” Zayn conceded, rubbing Louis’ shoulder with a caramel-colored hand. “You know me and Niall are here for you, full stop.”

Louis swallowed the lump in his throat a couple times before he could respond in a voice that didn’t crack with emotion. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr, I'm adoptively.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have a decently formulated plot in my head, so get excited. I don't own the boys, or RIC, or anything like that. I'm just a sad college student getting all her feels out before she graduates.

Louis woke with the sun, having slept fitfully in Zayn’s bed. He’d tried to match his breathing to Zayn’s steady inhales and exhales, but that had made him anxious. He smoked another bowl out of his bubbler in his own room, but had gone to sleep in Zayn’s bed, afraid of another panic attack. 

The weak November sun was streaming through the thin metal blinds that covered the window at the foot of Zayn’s bed. Dust motes swam lazily through the air, glinting in the morning light. Louis had to get up and get to campus today, and he needed to do it at a reasonable time. His first class wasn’t until twelve thirty, but he needed to get to the library and go over the PowerPoint before the lecture.   
He rolled over and looked at Zayn’s still sleeping form. His best mate was really ace, Louis decided. So ace he didn’t deserve to have Louis wake him up in a rude way. Louis sat up in Zayn’s bed (not as comfy as his own, but beggars can’t be choosers) and swung his legs over the side, shivering as his bare soles touched the cold wood. He glanced fondly back at Zayn before he exited his room and walked down the hall. Didn’t seem like Niall was up yet. There was always noise when Niall was awake and the flat was blissfully quiet in the early morning. 

Louis walked to their postage-stamp sized bathroom and examined himself in the mirror critically. He’d gotten to the point where his appearance was starting to affect his mood. He had to do something about it, even if it was just a shower and a shave. 

Louis stripped off his shirt and boxer briefs before turning on the hot water in the shower. He gazed impassively at the tattoos littering his torso, eyes flicking over the doodles and stick figures and words. Zayn had a tattoo gun and Louis had a hard time saying no to free ink. The steam from the shower was fogging up the mirror and obscuring his reflection. Louis stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain closed behind him. 

He began soaping up his far too greasy hair and deeply inhaled the sweet steam from the water. It had been longer than he’d care to admit since he’d taken a shower (oops). The hot water felt good on his skin, like he was washing off layers of sadness and despondency. He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and reached for his bottle of “girly soap”, as Niall called it. Honestly, could he be blamed for having sensitive skin that couldn’t handle Irish Spring? 

Louis lathered the body wash over his skin and tried to focus on the feeling of washing himself clean of everything. He watched the suds swirl down the drain and tilted his head back, cracking the vertebrae in his neck. Louis didn’t know why he’d been avoiding the shower for so long. Mental illness was strange and disgusting when it affected his hygiene, he knew. Not like there was much he could do about it except muscle up the nerve and just get it over with. 

He let himself stand under the invigorating spray of the shower for another ten minutes before he shut it off and got out, drying himself with one of Niall’s Power Rangers towels. He reached for his razor and some shaving cream at the sink, not dwelling on how when he was desperate to self-harm about a year ago, he’d taken apart one of his razors and used that. Definitely not going to dwell on it. He shaved carefully, but there was only so much good a dull razor could do. At least he looked less homeless. 

Louis wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door, letting the cold air rush into the steamy bathroom and send goosebumps up his skin. He stepped into his room and dressed in jeans and a jumper, anticipating a chilly day. He pulled his grey beanie over his still-drying hair and buckled his granddad’s watch around his wrist. Louis was going to be totally productive today, for sure. He grabbed his laptop and charger from where they were laying discarded on his bed and closed the door to his tiny room on the way out. After placing his electronics in his school bag, he scribbled a note for Niall and Zayn on the back of a receipt telling them of his plans for the day and headed out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. 

Louis unlocked his car door without too much trouble this morning and sat down into the chilly compartment. He cranked the engine, and it only took three times for it to turn over for real. So far his day was going far better than he’d expected. He plugged his phone into the cord trailing from the tape deck and started playing some old Coldplay for his quick commute to campus. Louis let himself get lost in the music as he drove the familiar route to Rhode Island College, passing run-down apartment buildings and takeout joints on the way. He took in the scenery with appreciation. Rhode Island in the summer was beautiful, of course, but there was a serene quiet about autumn and winter. He liked it. It was like the world was waiting to wake up. 

Louis pulled into the main drive of the school only one song’s length later and tried to find a spot close to the library. He parked his car and only fought with the lock a bit this time before shoving his headphones in his ears and making his way towards the center of campus. RIC wasn’t too much to look at, but it had been his home for the past four years, and he loved it for that. Louis walked up the concrete stairs to the library, salt crunching under his feet. If they’d had salt on the sidewalks, maybe it was really about to be winter, with proper snow and everything. He swung open the door to the library and walked in, breathing in the comforting smell of books, paper and coffee from the little café in the corner of the atrium. Louis walked over to the circulation desk and plucked a binder for his nursing cohort out of a cubbyhole, signing in. He was required to log 10 hours in the library every week, and he was still a couple hours behind this week. 

Louis scouted out a table in the back of the library, and began setting up a space to get some work done. He opened his laptop and logged onto the course website, queuing up the PowerPoint, then grabbed his notebook and pens. Louis had always retained more when he was writing things down the old-fashioned way. He sat down in the chair with the scratchy, familiar fabric on the cushions and immersed himself in the intricacies of goblet cells. 

Several hours later, he drew himself out of the cellular makeup of the digestive system and stretched, yawning loudly. He was in desperate need of caffeine. Unfortunately, Yorkshire Tea wasn’t regularly imported into the library café, so he’d have to make do with the American excuse for tea (honestly, if you steeped pencil shavings it would probably taste better), or he’d go for the big guns and order a coffee. 

Louis loaded up his stuff and made his way towards the front of the library, flicking through his Facebook and Instagram feeds as he went. Nothing new, just the usual strange mix of friends from the UK and people he’d met in the States. Louis approached the counter and met eyes with the barista who’d been on the staff since the beginning of the fall semester. 

“Hey there, could I get a large caramel latte, please?” Louis asked, rummaging through his wallet for his student account card. “Oh, and a blueberry scone.”

The barista smiled and read him his total. Louis passed him his card and studied the boy. He had kind, crinkly brown eyes and an easy smile. He had a pleasant energy about him that Louis admired. He himself was too hard or too soft, never an in between. 

“Thanks, mate,” Louis said, tipping his head in a friendly nod towards the other boy. He moved to the end of the counter to wait for his drink and pastry. His phone buzzed with a text from Zayn:

[11:46] so u just dipped out this morning eh?

Louis chuckled and tapped out a reply on his screen. 

[11:48] if u got up and went into the kitchen ull see I left a note, arse

[11:48] point taken. Feeling any better today?

Louis took a breath and assessed how he was doing so far. Throwing himself into his studies was one of his more beneficial coping skills. At least if he drowned himself in work, he’d stay on top of his studies and maybe salvage the remnants of his financial aid money. Fuck. He needed to get a job. His coffee and scone appeared on the bar and Louis grabbed them, taking off towards the student union to chill with his snack before class. 

The walk across campus was bitingly cold. Louis tucked his nose down into the collar of his jumper and squeezed his hands around the warm cardboard coffee cup. He stumbled into the student union building and began looking for a place to sit and stuff his face with his scone before he had to dash off to the life sciences building for his lecture. 

[11:53] dont make me come to campus b4 noon tommo thats not how i roll

Louis smiled fondly, thinking he was supremely lucky to have the friends that he had. 

[11:54] I’m fine, mum. got an early start and chilled in the lib for a few hrs. class soon. Smoke later?

[11:54] count me in (:

Louis shoved his phone into the front pocket of his bag and began breaking off pieces of his scone, trying to avoid getting too many crumbs all over his red jumper. He alternated shoving pieces of pastry into his mouth with gulps of hot coffee. The growling in his stomach was beginning to abate some, thankfully. No way he could sit through a three hour block class with no fuel. He let his eyes pass over the students hanging out in the large, open space, taking in the artsy kids, the Greek life folks and the telltale maroon nursing scrubs that flitted about. Louis allowed himself to remain in this reverie for about ten minutes, just sitting and watching mindfully. It was very grounding. He stood a short while later, brushed off his jumper and jeans, swung his bag over his shoulder, and made his way back out into the cold. 

He booked it across the quad as quickly as he could, the temperature seeming to just continually drop. The sky was beginning to cloud over with clouds that threatened snow. Louis directed his footsteps to the Fogarty Science Building and bundled his hands in the tight pockets of his jeans. Dammit, why did he decide to wear skinnies today? His hands were freezing. 

The amount of students in scrubs increased dramatically as he got closer to the building that housed the nursing department, one of RIC’s most popular majors. He smiled at his acquaintances and classmates, stopping to hug some friends and chat a bit before making his way up the stairs to the lecture halls. 

He walked down the checkered linoleum hallways lined with display cases showcasing research and scientific discoveries, gazing at each. Louis had been a nursing student since the day he stepped foot on campus, and Fogarty was home to him in the same way that the arts hall was home to Zayn and how Niall was always hanging around Alger. 

Louis rounded the corner to the classroom his lecture had been in all year. He was one of the first to arrive, as per usual. He set up his notebooks and pens in even rows before sitting in the rickety swivel chair. Louis was totally ready for today’s lecture, motivated to get participation points and impress his instructor, who just happened to be the department head. Dr. Cowell hadn’t made an appearance yet, though, but Louis supposed it was early. He sipped his latte as he skimmed his notes on what kind of mucous was produced in the lower intestines. 

His classmates began filing in around him, chattering as they sit down and get their lecture materials out. He’d known many of these people at least tangentially for the entire time he’d been at RIC, and a couple of them were in his clinical cohort—he shared wider smiles and mumbled greetings to those. 

Dr. Cowell breezed in next, managing to impart an air of importance and effortlessness all at once. Louis suspected it had something to do with his signature white t-shirt that he’d been rocking since Louis met him as a freshman declaring his major. 

“Alright, folks, we’ve got quite a bit to cover today so I’ll be handing out your last practicals on the circulatory system after we’ve gone through the new material. I hope you’re all keeping abreast of the digestive system for next Monday’s practical. Same drill as always, I’ll set out models of the different cells in the system and you’re to label them. Fifty structures, no word banks.”

Louis heard some of his classmates groaning at this. “I know some of you have struggled with practicals more than others, but you’ve got to remember that a strong academic foundation is key to becoming an effective caregiver to patients,” Dr. Cowell admonished. 

Academics had never been a source of difficulty for Louis. No, his anxieties about nursing were rooted in the fact that he knew how much destruction he could cause with his hands, and how he was scared he’d hurt people more than he’d end up helping them. Lacking a working understanding of human anatomy and physiology wasn’t one of his worries. 

Dr. Cowell launched into a detailed explanation of hydrolysis, beginning with the chemical composition of saliva. Louis followed along with the notes he’d taken earlier, stopping every once and a while to write down a clarification or underline for emphasis. He quizzed himself on the tissues layers of the GI tract as Dr. Cowell explained them in depth, going from inferior to superior, then back again. 

Louis’ head felt bright and bursting with information and energy, and he wanted to chase it until he couldn’t run another step. He relished the bursts of clarity he was blessed with, and wanted to take advantage of them while they lasted. He drew connections to other body systems in his notes and felt like he really understood at least the chemical process of digestion once Dr. Cowell clapped his hands together and ended the lecture. He began passing back their graded answer sheets from their last practical. 

Louis held his breath as he put his hand on the flipped over sheet of paper that Dr. Cowell had just placed on the table in front of him. He shut his eyes and took a few steadying breaths before peeling back the corner of the page to check his grade. 

48/50. He could live with that. He could really, really live with that. It was honestly better than he expected, but then again the circulatory system wasn’t the most difficult to understand, in Louis’ humble opinion. 

“Louis? Could you stay after for a minute?” Dr. Cowell said, his tone crisp as he arranged his papers into his briefcase. Louis gulped back nervousness when he replied.

“Yes, sir.” He propped himself up on the edge of the table and waited for the other students to filter out, tapping his fingers against his thigh nervously. 

Dr. Cowell turned to face him once the last student had trailed out of the classroom. “Louis, I’ve been really impressed with your performance this semester in my lecture. Too often I have students that are so excited to work with patients that they neglect their academics.”

Louis nodded, slightly unsure of where this was going. It couldn’t be bad, though, if he was being praised? 

“Anyways, I was wondering if you’d be willing to tutor one of the students in my intro class? He’s a public health major and the hard science requirements are starting to trip him up. He’s asked for a tutor and I told him I’d look around, since I appreciated his initiative. Would you be up for it?” Dr. Cowell looked at him expectantly, hands steepled on the podium in front of Louis. 

Louis mulled it over a bit, nibbling on his lower lip. “The position would be paid, of course. You’d technically be a tutor with the supplemental instruction office, but that’s a formality. You don’t have to tutor anyone besides him, if you didn’t want to.”

That sold it for Louis. A semi-solid income that didn’t involve him selling his soul (or his body) ?

“Sign me up, sir. I’m honored you thought of me,” he said, extending his hand to shake Dr. Cowell’s. The older man smiled warmly and clasped his hand. 

“Excellent. I’ll put the two of you in touch so you can work out a schedule. Thank you, Louis. The public health program is rather new and we’ve got some kinks to work out, so maybe this will help us identify some problem areas.”

“Sounds great, I look forward to it,” Louis said, smiling widely. 

“See you on Monday, then.” Dr. Cowell said, effectively dismissing Louis. 

Louis left the classroom feeling like he was walking on air. He’d been dreading the upcoming holiday season without a source of income, and definitely didn’t want to spend the season of joy and giving pinching his pennies. 

He made his way toward the car park, texting his, Zayn’s and Niall’s group message. 

[13:09] guess whos officially got himself a tutoring gig?

[13:09] gee mate if you needed help u culdve told me. Id tutor u for free

Louis stifled a laugh at Niall’s response. 

[13:10] no u wanker, im the one doing the tutoring

Zayn chimed in a half-second later:

[13:10] !!! $$$

Louis wrangled his keychain from his back pocket and jiggled the lock on the door to his sedan. It took several tries for him to get in, as the air had gotten humid and froze while he was in class. There was a spidery layer of ice on the muddy puddles decorating the asphalt. Winter was making her mark on the world. He sat down in the drivers seat and cranked the engine, waiting for the heat to engage before he began driving. Louis tapped a reply in their message before pressing play on the stereo, the sounds of Bright Eyes filling the car. 

[13:11] b home soon loves. Takeaway and blunts??

His best mates responded to the message with a barrage of emojis, ranging from the thumbs up one to the flamenco dancer, courtesy of Niall’s fucked up brain. 

Louis drove home with a smile on his lips, feeling like maybe the funk he’d been in for the past few weeks was finally lifting, that he could see the other side and everything would be ok. He wasn’t spiraling down, it was just a low spot. Everyone had those. 

The drive went by quickly, as they always seemed to do when he was in a good mood. Louis practically skipped up the drive to the front door and barged right in, throwing open the door to their flat with exuberance. He heard music coming from the living room and he went to investigate. 

His two best mates were chilling on the futon, Niall with his acoustic in his lap and Zayn, messing about on a GameBoy Color. 

“Lads! I’ve returned! Have you missed me while I’ve been away at class?” Louis asked as he flopped down next to Zayn and threw his legs across Zayn’s lap. Zayn just furrowed his brow in response and brought the game closer to his face, biting his lip in concentration. 

“I’ve only just woken up, meself.” Niall said, yawning. “Zayn’s been playing Pokemon Sapphire for the better part of the afternoon, waiting around for you to get back.” He went back to strumming absentmindedly. 

“Did you say something about blunts earlier?” Niall asked, trying and failing to be casual. Louis threw back his head and laughed. Niall, ever the subtle one. 

“Indeed I did, Nialler. Be a dear and go get my box for me, will you?” To his credit, Niall bounded off towards Louis’ room and brought him the cigar box that he kept all his paraphernalia in, along with a plastic baggie of kush that Niall had grabbed from his own room. 

“Thanks, mate,” Louis said, smiling at his friend. He began grinding up the weed and split the cigarillo open, licking the insides of it, all the while Zayn had his elbows propped on Louis’ knees, totally engrossed in his game. Louis made quick work of the blunt rolling, and soon there were two perfectly rolled smokeables ready for consumption. Really, Louis was an expert. Steady hands from nursing school, and all that. He sparked up the first one and waved it in Zayn’s face, holding it just out of reach until Zayn agreed to put the game down and be social. 

“So what’s the deal with this tutoring gig, then?” Zayn asked, contritely. Louis sucked in a huge lungful of dank smoke and then French inhaled it back in before answering. 

“Dr. Cowell asked me to stay after class and wants me to tutor one of the students in the new public health program who’s apparently having a hard time with hard science.” The trio burst into snickers at his bad pun, and Louis was quite pleased. 

“So he’s apparently going to put me in contact with him and then we’ll get to scheduling and I can get to making money and won’t be in danger of prostituting myself.”

“Always a positive, mate,” Zayn chuckled. They sat in relative silence as they passed the blunts back and forth, getting progressively more blazed and relaxed as the minutes wore on. Soon enough, Niall began clamoring for food so Zayn called for Chinese takeaway. Louis took the opportunity to check his phone. No new Facebook notifications, no one had tweeted at him, but there was an email in his student account. He pressed the mail icon and waited for the message to load. It was from Dr. Cowell, giving him the name and email address of the person who he’d be tutoring. Louis mentally rolled his eyes at the prospect of just emailing this fellow and opened the Facebook app to send him a friend request. 

Harry Styles, he typed into the search bar, before pressing the “go” key. He clicked on the first profile, the one he had 15 mutual friends with, and almost shit twice and died. 

Of all cruel things in the universe, this had to be one of the worst things he’d encountered. Harry Styles, Harry Fucking Styles, was no other than the literal sex god Louis had plowed into the night before. Indeed, the same embodiment of gorgeousness that held onto Louis’ shoulders and who was from fucking Cheshire, of all places. His mouth dried out immediately and his finger shook as he clicked “add friend”. His thumbs were spastic on the glass keyboard as he typed out a message to go along with the request, introducing himself. It took three times to get the letters right. 

The calm buzz Louis had been feeling earlier was replaced with what felt like an actual hurricane of butterflies in his stomach that beat relentlessly at his diaphragm. Louis tried to imagine them drowning in stomach acid, but every time he closed his eyes he was reliving the scene from Avery’s last night. 

This was not good.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own anything. Please excuse my love for all things Louis, Harry, and Rhode Island. I don't live there anymore, but I miss it an awful lot.

Louis spent the rest of the afternoon and evening alternating between clutching his phone tightly and placing it face down on the other side of the room. Ok, so maybe he was losing it just a tad. 

Niall thought the whole situation was hilarious, and Zayn kept telling him he was way overreacting, which only served to make Louis feel worse every time his resolve cracked and he checked his phone. Harry hadn’t been online in six hours, so it wasn’t like he was outwardly ignoring Louis, but at the same time, who just didn’t check the notifications on their phone a couple times a day? 

His hands were shaking as he shoveled the pork fried rice he’d ordered from the takeaway down the street, spilling grains of rice on the jogging bottoms he changed into. Definitely not his most attractive look. 

It wasn’t until he literally walked into the doorframe outside his room that he realized he needed to snap out of it. He couldn’t walk around like a zombie until Harry responded, that was not an option. Louis needed some air, he decided. He whined at Zayn until the other boy rolled him a spliff for his walk, making concerned noises in his general direction. 

Louis stuck the spliff behind his ear and tugged his beanie on over his hair. He really needed to start actually doing something to his hair again, even if it was just a bit of gel. He shrugged his coat over his shoulders and slipped his feet into his moccasins, opening the door to the chilly air in the hall. As he stepped out on the street in the waning dusk light, he noticed that snow flurries were blowing through the air. A saner person would probably go back inside and say fuck the snow, but Louis wasn’t feeling particularly sane at the moment. He struck off down Huron towards Wealth Avenue, passing the dilapidated multi-family buildings and sheds that housed cars that had seen better days. 

He breathed in the cold air deeply, filling his lungs to capacity. He mentally ran through what was happening inside his body: skimming over the stages of alveolar gas exchange, expiration and inspiration, and what was responsible for neural control of ventilation. Louis thought about intubating patients in the ER, biPAP versus cPAP, and the tickly feeling of oxygen cannulas in his nose. He shook his head, sweeping thoughts of medicine and hospitals out of his mind. Louis grabbed the spliff from behind his ear and flicked his lighter to the end of it, inhaling weed and tobacco and rolling paper.

He shut his eyes as the first hit settled over him, eagerly anticipating the effects of the drug. His eyes scanned his surroundings, taking in the litter and dead leaves that lined his street. He ashed the spliff at his side, flicking the paper with his pinkie finger. Louis brought it up to his lips again, and inhaled. He stood, silent and still, headphones blasting old Bright Eyes tunes, sucking on his spliff and surveying the view of Providence from the end of his street. He was lucky in the winter, he could see straight to the city center. In the spring and summer, the leaves blocked his view. Louis swiveled his body to look through the dead branches and was struck by a strange sense of peace, like no matter what happens, he’d be okay. Maybe not happy, in the traditional sense of the word, but okay. And that could be enough, he thought. 

Louis continued around the corner to Academy Ave, brushing snowflakes off his fringe and eyelashes as he went. This was the first time he’d been outside in the snow all year, and he had a childlike sense of excitement about him (the weed was probably not helping in this regard). He stood on the corner and finished the spliff before tossing it in the gutter across from the Blessed Sacrament Church. He strolled down the block a bit before going into the Korean-run bodega. The yellowy light and musty smell hit his face with a gust of dry, hot air. He shook the snowflakes off his shoulders and stomped his feet. The snow had seeped into his moccasins and his feet were cold. He smiled at the lady behind the counter and walked through the aisles, scanning through increasingly unhealthy choices. He grabbed a couple packs of ramen and a bag of Cheetos before heading to the coolers in the back and grabbing a coke. Louis made his way to the front of the store, cradling his junk food in his arms and dumping it on the counter. 

“And a pack of Marlboro Reds, as well,” he said to the middle aged woman at the register. She plucked the pack of cigarettes from a rack behind her and pushed it through a plastic window towards him. 

“$14.93” she said.

Louis reached into his pocket for his wallet and just as his fingers brushed past his phone, it vibrated. His hand froze and he forgot what he was doing for a moment. He pulled both out of his pocket and swiped his credit card at the pad. He signed his name with a shaking hand and accepted the plastic bag that held his groceries. He walked out of the store and leaned back against the brick wall outside. Louis unlocked his phone and saw that Harry Styles had accepted his friend request. He navigated to his profile quickly and read his about me greedily. 

Harry Styles was born on the first of February, 1994, making him two years younger than Louis. He was from Holmes Chapel, but lived in Woonsocket (Jesus, he was in the middle of nowhere), and studied Public Health at Rhode Island College (though Louis already knew that). His profile failed to mention if he was interested in men or women, or if he was in a relationship, which was unfortunate. He felt as if time was frozen, as he stood there waiting to see if Harry would message him. He didn’t. Louis wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing with his back against the cold bricks, but he was getting colder, and it was almost dusk. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and set off towards home. 

The temperature had dropped significantly by the time he entered his flat. Louis walked gratefully into the warm kitchen and took off his snowy jacket. He draped it over one of the chairs and kicked his sodden moccasins off with disgust. 

Niall and Zayn were still in the living room, and Louis could hear some sort of violent shooting on the telly. He stared dispassionately at the messy kitchen, and rolled up his sleeves. Louis started with the mountain of dishes in the sink, rinsing the dried food off and stacking them in the dishwasher. He eased himself into a rhythm, filling the dishwasher and then popping some detergent in. He set it for a heavy wash cycle and set to collecting the cups and plates that were scattered around the counters and on the kitchen table. Honestly, Louis wasn’t fastidious by any means, but they were living in a hazmat zone. He dropped them off in the sink and ran some water over the lot, drizzling dish soap on as he went. He realized the stovetop was still covered in pots and pans and needed a solid wiping down and spent the next twenty minutes being utterly domestic. 

Eventually, he felt like he wasn’t going to contract any diseases by sitting in his kitchen, and brewed himself a cup of tea. He sat at the table with his mug and stared outside, taking in the dimly lit street in front of him. His thoughts wandered to his family back in Doncaster, to his mum and siblings (six, now, for crying out loud. He still hadn’t met Ernest and Doris, and that rankled him). Louis dug his phone out of his pocket and messaged his oldest sister, Lottie. She was fifteen now, and it blew him away. She’d been just a kid when he’d left home, and now she was a proper bratty teenager. 

[18:12] Hey there, how’re things?

Louis was trying to casually gauge how his mother was doing. She’d gotten married that past summer, and Louis liked Dan, he really did. It was just that his mother had a habit of throwing all her energy into her relationship, leaving none for herself or her children. And when those relationships had invariably gone south, she fell to pieces. 

Louis hadn’t said anything to his family, but it was the stress of his mother’s divorce to Mark that had led to his breakdown. He had been running himself ragged trying to hold together his family from three thousand miles across the Atlantic, and it had become too much. He didn’t crumble, like his mother did. Rather, Louis burned slow, until one horrid night, he exploded. 

He remembered it in flashes, and it wasn’t something he liked to think about often. It made him melancholy and that was the root of all of it, wasn’t it? One night he’d just sunken down lower than he’d ever felt, like he had tunnel vision and the dark was swallowing him whole. He remembered shaking four or five pills into his hand at a time, swallowing them like he was on autopilot until the bottle was empty. Louis had lay down in his bed and pulled the duvet up to his ears, and tried to sleep. He hadn’t written a note, hadn’t told anyone anything. He didn’t want to point fingers or make anyone feel worse then they already were going to. Louis knew it was a shite thing to do, but he only felt marginally guilty. He just wanted it all to be over. 

But the end never came. Instead, Louis was awoken from his half sleep by powerful nausea. He skidded to the bathroom and vomited, twice. He had sunk to the floor and rested his head on the bowl, too weak to stand. His eyes were too heavy to keep open, he felt drunk and sedated. Somehow, he eventually made it back to his bed. He’d brought along a bowl from the kitchen and laid it next to his head. 

Sometime later, he’d become unable to move, barely able to turn his head to spit bile into the bowl. His stomach kept contracting, and he kept gagging, but he couldn’t move. It was the scariest thing Louis had ever experienced in his entire life. Which was why, when he finally woke up almost twenty hours later, he vowed to never do it again. Niall and Zayn had poked their heads in in the following days, and Louis had managed to convince them that he’d been struck with a devastating case of influenza. It wasn’t for months later that he told them about how he’d been cutting himself and almost did himself in. Needless to say, they weren’t pleased. Niall had promptly burst into tears, throwing himself at Louis and smacking him repeatedly, cursing him until he eventually sunk to the couch, still sobbing. Zayn’s expression had been unreadable, and he grabbed Louis by the shoulders and stared him dead in the eyes before pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. Louis knew how lucky he was to have them. 

He was pulled out of his memories by a response from Lottie. 

[18:16] Been alright. The babies are getting so big Lou! Mum wants to know what you want for ur bday!

Louis let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. There was no immediate crisis, from what he could tell. Thank God. If she was asking about birthday presents, his mum was fine. 

He was in the middle of telling his sister that he’d have to think about what he wanted this year when his phone buzzed in his hands with a Facebook message from Harry. With shaking fingers, Louis tapped on the Facebook icon. 

Harry Styles: Hello there, Louis Tomlinson…I hear you’re the man to see about anatomy.

Louis felt his heart beat faster, and he willed himself to calm down. Honestly, he didn’t even know the person. No reason to have a strop (except that Harry Styles was a literal sex god). 

He typed a response with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

Louis Tomlinson: You heard correctly. How can I help?

Harry Styles: I’ve got my final coming up and I’m in desperate need for someone to help me revise and possibly teach me the path of blood through the circulatory system? Dr. Cowell’s been great working with me so far but if I cock up the exam I’m doomed.

Louis chuckled softly, tapping his response back.

Louis Tomlinson: I think I can do that. When are you free?

Harry Styles: Could we meet Saturday afternoon? 

Louis smiled at the prospect of seeing Harry (who was possibly a model. Or a rock star) again. 

Louis Tomlinson: Sounds great, let’s grab a table in the café around 3?

Harry Styles: See you then

Louis felt a brief moment of calm settle over him. He’d see Harry on Saturday. But then, it hit him again. He’d see Harry on Saturday. As in, less than two days from now. Louis felt a bit sick. He’d been proper pissed at the Avery the night before, and he was hoping to god that Harry wouldn’t recognize him. 

“Oi! Louis! C’mere!” shouted Niall from the living room. His voice boomed through the small flat, scaring the shit out of Louis, who dropped his phone on the table with a clatter. 

“Jesus fuck, Niall. I’m less than ten meters from you, you complete and utter arse. You gave me a fright,” Louis scolded as he walked into the oddly shaped room. Niall and Zayn were still playing video games, though not killing each other this time. FIFA. Louis plopped down on the futon and kicked his legs up on the arm. 

“What do you want, then?” he asked, really just exaggerating the annoyed tone in his voice at this point. He could never stay mad at Niall for long. 

“Oh, nothing. I just missed you,” Niall said, grinning from ear to ear like a goddamn leprechaun. 

“And here I am,” Louis drawled expansively, throwing his arms wide. “In the flesh.” Niall just grinned brighter and ruffled Louis’ hair, snatching his beanie off when he pulled back his hand. Louis made a halfhearted attempt at getting it back, but gave up without much fuss.   
“Are we going out tomorrow, lads?” Zayn asked, pausing the game and setting down the controller. “Guster is playing at Lupo’s.”

“Count me in,” Niall said, busying himself on his phone. He was like the Energizer Bunny (a cultural reference Louis had just recently picked up on), he always had to be doing something. 

“Sounds great,” Louis replied absentmindedly. His thoughts were totally not in the student union café on a Saturday in early winter, wrapped up in a jumper and conversation and coffee with actual sex god Harry Styles. 

“I wanna watch a Bourne movie,” Niall announced, clambering off the couch and to their tower of DVD’s. Louis stood up and wrestled with the futon for a bit, opening it up into a double sized bed. Zayn migrated over and laid down on one side, patting the black mattress with a tattooed hand. Louis stretched out beside him and rested his chin on his folded arms, watching Niall fiddle with the telly. 

The trio had watched movies this way the very first night they’d moved into their apartment, culture shocked and jet lagged, and it had stuck. Louis liked to joke that they were a litter of codependent kittens, marginally able to fend for themselves but needing some help getting fed. 

Niall dropped down on the other side of Louis, sandwiching him in warmth, the smell of smoke, and whiffs of aftershave. It was nice. Louis tried to keep his eyes open as The Bourne Legacy played, but as sexy as Matt Damon was, he couldn’t keep his eyes from staying shut longer and longer each time he blinked. The snow was falling heavier out the windows, and Louis could see the flakes glowing in the streetlight. Eventually, he gave in and drifted off to sleep between his two best friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still own nothing, but I've started a sideblog for my fic stuff. http://figsforthistles.tumblr.com/
> 
> come see me! say hi!

Louis awoke sometime in the middle of the night, curled up next to Niall on the futon. Zayn must have gone to bed, he though blearily. The DVD menu was playing on a loop on the screen, flashing in the dark flat. Louis rolled off the futon and stumbled through the kitchen to the bathroom, clicking on the light and stopping at the sink to get a glass of water. He gulped it down, watching his Adam’s apple bob in the mirror. Louis used the loo, shut off the light, and made the sharp turn into his bedroom. He flicked on the lamp on his dresser and grabbed his cigar box of weed shit. 

He sat on the corner of his bed and packed his bowl. Louis felt kind of groggy and weirdly empty. He always felt disoriented after waking up somewhere he didn’t expect to, even if it was his own living room. He was a creature comforted by habit, for better or worse. Louis hit the glass pipe with a well-practiced ease and he opened his laptop to check the time. He had no idea where his phone was. Probably in the living room, if he had to guess. The clock in the top right corner of his screen said it was quite literally the middle of the night, just before 1 AM. Louis opened a new tab and got on Facebook, casually checking his notifications. All attempts at coolness flew out the window once Louis saw that Harry Styles had liked the post Niall had made at the Avery, the post he’d tagged Louis in. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. So, any hopes of being a cool cucumber were gone straightaway. Harry totally remembered who Louis was. Damn. Double damn. Louis glanced as his dwindling weed stash and considered packing another bowl to calm himself, but he decided against it. Instead, he reached for the bottle of Xanax that he kept on the tv tray next to his bed. Louis popped it open and swallowed a bar dry. The pill stuck in his throat and he washed it down with the half empty remnants of a Mountain Dew bottle. He shut off the light and crawled up the expanse of his bed and under the duvet. He didn’t have class until half past two the next day, and Louis was really grateful for small blessings. Morning lectures and his sleep schedule didn’t tend to get on. 

Louis lay still in the quiet dark, willing himself not to get up and go into Zayn’s room. He couldn’t run to him every time he was afraid to be by himself. He knew he couldn’t let on that things were getting worse-and Zayn was already too keen as it was. Louis hated worrying people. It made him feel like more of a burden than he usually did. So, instead of going into Zayn’s room, Louis decided to name all two hundred and six bones in the adult body. He’d managed to get through the entire axial skeleton and about half of the appendicular skeleton before the Xanax made everything in his mind soft and fuzzy and he was able to slip off into sleep. 

He woke up the next morning earlier than he’d expected. It was definitely before noon. He’d remembered just enough from his days in Scouts to be able to tell roughly what time of day it was based on how the sun was shining into his bedroom. Louis stretched his arms over his head and yawned widely. He felt rested, at least. He was really trying not to rely on the Xanax for sleep, but it was getting increasingly harder to deny how much better he felt after a night of panic attack free sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked across the cold wood floor, opening the door to the hall. Niall was in the kitchen, frying sausages on the stove. He had early classes on Tuesdays and Fridays, but Louis could never handle it. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Niall called from the stove. “You abandoned me last night. Woke up all by me lonesome this morning,” he said, mock hurt coloring his features, but only for a moment before he broke into a wide smile. “Sleep alright, then?”

Louis hummed what he hoped was a positive noise before filling the electric kettle with water for his morning cuppa. He leaned back against the counter and poked Niall in the side. 

“Make me some?” Louis turned on his best puppy dog eyes and hoped that would help. Niall simply laughed good-naturedly and asked him if he wanted sausage or bacon. 

Soon enough, Louis was munching away at bacon and toast and sipping his tea. The snow overnight had left a sparkling dust over everything outside. Louis wondered how long it would take it to melt. He spotted his phone on the table and grabbed it, only to notice that he’d had three texts from Lottie that he’d missed. He’d forgotten to actually answer her last night (oops). 

He checked the clock-Lottie was still in school. Oh well, if she was his sister, she’d have her phone in her bag and check it under her desk when the teacher turned her back. 

[09:47] My bad, sis. Fell asleep watching a bourne movie, you know how it goes. I’m not sure what I want for my bday.

Louis debated mentioning whether he’d been toying with the idea of flying home for his birthday and the holidays, but he decided against it. A lot could happen in six weeks, and he didn’t want to commit to a visit if it was going to be bad. Instead, he just texted again to tell her that he wanted clothes. Louis sighed, and felt like an utterly shit brother for leaving her to bear the brunt of all their family drama. He just couldn’t handle it, didn’t know how to do it anymore. Things just seemed harder to deal with each time something went wrong. Louis knew somewhere down the line, there was another breaking point, one that he might not be able to come back from. Definitely not the most pleasant thought for a Friday morning. 

He checked Facebook next. Friends from back home had all been uploading pictures of Bonfire Night, and he felt a pang of homesickness squeeze his heart. It was quickly replaced with butterflies in his stomach as he noticed the next post on his News Feed: Harry Styles had checked into a tattoo parlor last night, just over the border in Massachusetts. Without giving himself time to change his mind, Louis liked the update. Two could totally play at being overt on Facebook. 

Niall was making an alarming amount of noise in the bathroom, and Louis went to investigate. His roommate was knocking over Louis’ and Zayn’s collection of hair products, picking them up and dropping them in the sink. 

“What are you on about?” Louis asked, leaning against the doorframe. Niall was wearing suit trousers and a lilac oxford (really?). His tie was undone round his neck and he looked generally quite flustered. 

“I’ve got a financial accounting presentation today and the gel I used on my hair last time made me look like a greaser,” Niall complained, peering at the back of a tub of pomade. “You and Zayn have nice hair stuff, you just have a lot of it and now I’ve dropped it all over the fuckin’ place,”  
Louis bounced off the doorframe and plucked the pomade from Niall’s hands. 

“I’ll help you if you agree to stop destroying the bathroom,” he said, dangling the hair product between two fingers. 

“Deal,” Niall agreed quickly. Louis pushed him to a chair at the kitchen table and sat him down. 

“Do you want to have it spiked up or slicked back?” Louis asked. 

Niall shook his head. “Do the swoop thing that you do with your hair. That always looks sick.”

Louis nodded and fetched a comb from the bathroom. “What time’s the presentation?” he asked. 

“It’s not until 1, but we have to print out some charts on that huge paper so I’m heading to campus early. I’m nervous the other fella won’t show up.”

Louis made a shushing noise at Niall and began teasing his hair up in the front, combing pomade through and sculpting the requested swoop.

“You’ll be fine, Nialler. You always are and you know it. You live some sort of blessed existence, you leprechaun.”

Niall’s laugh echoed through the kitchen, bringing warmth to the weak sunshine streaming through the window. Louis was overcome by a sense of gratitude for his friend as he finished up his hairstyle. 

“You’re the best, Lou.” Niall said softly, knocking his forehead against the side of Louis’ hand. Louis brushed his knuckle absentmindedly against Niall’s temple and set the products down on the tabletop. He needed to get his report on his clinical experience at the VA Hospital done before five today. 

“D’you want a ride to campus?” Louis offered. He might as well go some place he was guaranteed to get work done, unlike his apartment with it’s nap-inducing comfy surfaces. 

“That’d be ace, man,” Niall said enthusiastically. “I’m freezing me balls off when I walk now.”

“I know what you mean, it got cold like, overnight.” Louis replied. 

“Every winter I thank god for your shite Honda,” Niall said, getting up and patting his blond quiff. 

“Let me get your tie, you git,” Louis chided, reaching for the lengths of fabric hanging around Niall’s neck. “You always make the knot too big.”

Niall didn’t argue at that and let Louis fuss over his collar and tie. “You keep me looking good, Tommo,” he said before walking to his room. 

Louis cleared his plate from the table and went to his own room, searching for clean clothes in the piles on his floor. He had a bit of a problem with caring about being tidy. He eventually settled on a Doncaster Rovers jersey that he layered over an Under Armour long sleeved shirt. It had been ages since he’d played football, and Louis did miss it. He stepped into some jeans and slid on his boots. No way was he going to walk around with wet feet in his Toms. He collected his wallet, laptop and various chargers before loading up his messenger bag and meeting Niall in the kitchen. 

Niall was looking rather sharp in a dark grey suit jacket that complimented the lilac shirt he was wearing. Louis felt a brief surge of pride. No longer did Niall solely wear bro tanks and huge trainers. He considered it a true personal triumph. The pair left the flat and locked the door behind them, bracing themselves for the cold weather outside their door. 

Louis cranked the engine of the Civic and let Niall choose the soundtrack for their drive. He was content to jam along to the Beastie Boys as he maneuvered the small car through the snow dusted Providence streets. He smoked a cigarette while Niall chugged a Monster. Louis could tell he was nervous about his presentation, but Niall had this infectious confidence that immediately predisposed everyone to liking him and wanting to help him. Louis really envied that. 

They turned onto Mt. Pleasant and Louis noticed that his mind was wandering to Harry Styles, thinking about tattoos, dark curls, and deep voices. He was really shameless. Honestly, he hadn’t even properly met the fellow and Louis would probably be on his knees in front of him if he asked. 

“Can you just drop me in front of Alger?” Niall asked, pointing towards the grey concrete building just ahead of them. 

“Sure thing, mate,” Louis said, steering the car towards the entrance of the business school. He wished Niall good luck as his friend climbed out of the car and bounded to the entrance, looking really fucking sharp, Louis had to admit. He mentally congratulated himself on his cosmetology skills as he drove around the back of campus to the student car park. He tried to get a space as close to the end of the lot near the library as he could. He wasn’t keen on walking far in the cold, overcast weather. 

Soon enough, Louis found himself walking towards the library, sucking down the remains of his cigarette. He jogged up the stone steps and walked right past the coffee stand resolutely (he didn’t need to distract himself with food this early in the day, he’d never get anything done) and into the atrium of the library. Louis decided to get to work on the quiet floor to maximize productivity. He skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs, fitness and all that, and scoped out a table next to a window overlooking the front steps of the library. 

Louis set up his laptop, notebook and binders and chose a playlist before cracking his knuckles and getting down to work. He had to write eight to ten pages about what he’d gained from the experience and how it would help him in his next clinical placement. Honestly, Louis had really hated the VA Hospital. The disconcerting feeling he got when he looked into the eyes of veterans only got worse each time he’d gone in, which made him feel like a truly scum human being. The worst of the worst. Who got that freaked out around veterans, who had actually seen war and death? What did Louis know that compared to that?

He sighed dejectedly and just tried to start by getting his thoughts all out on paper. Louis managed to work himself into a rhythm where he approached the assignment as an outsider, describing the objectiveness of the situation, rather than his own feelings about it. He had learned things, about cirrhosis of the liver and your likelihood of advancing up a transplant list, about long wait times for veterans whose situations got more and more desperate with each passing day, and about the spectre of PTSD that haunted too many of them. Louis tried to just focus on the facts, and after close to two hours he had a decent working draft on his laptop. 

Louis felt a bit drained and he was really glad all he had to do was email the report to his cohort advisor, instead of attending class as well. It was the one bright spot on the days that reports were due. 

He decided that taking a break was definitely within his best interest. Louis asked the kid sitting at the next table over to watch his laptop as he went downstairs to the lobby for a latte. There was a small queue in front of the counter and Louis decided to use the time to his advantage, scanning Instagram and Facebook for new content. It wasn’t until he realized the person in front of him in the queue was speaking in a voice that was decidedly too velvety and British to be anyone but Harry Styles. And he was in line behind him, wearing an old footie jersey and grungy shoes. Of course this was his luck. Louis decided to just try and play it cool, like he didn’t notice Harry. 

Louis kept his ears perked for what Harry was ordering, but he wasn’t ordering anything. He was talking to the lad at the register. From their conversation, Louis could ascertain they were roommates. This was such a small state, he thought to himself, shaking his head internally. It honestly seemed like everyone knew everyone. 

Harry walked down to the end of the counter-no, walked was the wrong word. Louis wasn’t actually sure how to describe the way Harry was moving. He decided that loping was probably as close as he was going to get. 

Louis placed his order. “I’d like a large caramel latte, please.” The boy at the register smiled at him and punched in his total. 

“I’ve seen you around a lot lately. Midterms?” 

Louis nodded. “Yeah, it’s gonna be a rough couple weeks. Gotta get my caffeine fix, you know?”

He was peripherally aware of a pair of eyes on him. Louis knew Harry was watching him from the end of the counter and really, it was just a matter of time before he put two and two together and realized who Louis was. 

Sure enough, Harry swiveled his torso toward Louis and leaned into the counter. 

“You’re Louis Tomlinson, aren’t you?” he drawled. 

“I am, yeah,” Louis replied, sounding way more confident than he looked.

“You two know each other?” Register boy asked. 

“He’s my new tutor,” Harry said brightly. “I’m failing biology.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” said the cashier dryly. “I’m Liam,” he said by way of introducing himself. “Harry and I are roommates.”

“Nice to meet you.” Louis replied, extending his hand to shake Liam’s. The other boy shook his hand warmly and handed him his coffee. 

“See you around!” Liam said with a smile. 

Louis lifted his cup to him and gave him a quiet “cheers” before trying to extricate himself from the situation before he made a complete and total prat of himself. 

“Wait,” Harry called as Louis tried to slink off. “Let me put my number in your mobile.” Louis shut his eyes and swallowed the nervousness rising in his throat. 

“Sure thing, mate,” he said in what he hoped was a casual tone as he dug his phone out of his jeans pocket. He handed it to Harry and couldn’t help but notice how large his hands were. Harry gave him back the phone after a second and fished his own out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“Now you’ve got to give me yours,” a grin creeping across his features. Louis felt a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he couldn’t name. God, he was really out of touch with these emotions. He took Harry’s mobile from him and typed in his own number with shaky fingers. 

“We’re even,” Harry said, and Louis thought that if honey had a sound, it would be Harry Styles’ voice. He handed back the iPhone and took a sip of his latte to calm his jitters, before remembering that he had indeed left all his shit under the dubious watch of a RIC undergrad. 

“I should go, I left some poor kid watching my things,” Louis said, gesturing towards to the stairs. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Harry said.

“It’s a date.” Louis couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth and was internally smacking himself as he walked towards the stairs. He could hear Liam’s fast paced whisper fade behind him as he tried to make his getaway as quick as possible. He was a complete tosser, really. Who said that? Honestly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I take so long to do everything, school's a fun thing.

Louis sat back down at the table with all his school things, but he felt distracted. He knew working on his report would be useless, he’d never be able to focus on veterans at this point. He would be seeing Harry Styles, the actual sex god who may or may not be devastatingly flirtatious, the next day. Louis realized that he was acting like he’d never had an attraction to someone before, and grumbled at himself internally. The worst thing he could do was act like a complete lovestruck fool around Harry, and Louis had a vested interest in not letting that happen. He sipped his latte and tried to mindfully enjoy his coffee, without much success. 

He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he’d need a break to center himself before working on his report again. Louis began packing up his laptop and notes into his shoulder bag, checking to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He chucked his now empty latte cup in the rubbish before making his way down the stairs and out the back exit of the library, hoping to avoid a run in with either Harry or Liam. 

He succeeded in evading the two and dug a cigarette out of the crumpled pack in his back pocket. Louis checked his phone to see if Zayn or Niall had texted to him and when he looked at the screen, he almost dropped the phone like a hot potato. Harry Styles had totally texted him. Louis unlocked the phone with a shaking finger and read the message:

[12:27] good to know you’re just as charming sober

Louis could have sunk into the concrete outside the library. Clearly literally running into Harry at Avery’s was either the worst thing or best thing to ever happen to him. Almost before he had time to think of a witty response, his fingers were tapping out a reply.

[12:34] generally drowning myself in vodka cranberries is adequate social lubricant but im glad you can see through my act

Only half a minute later, Harry had replied

[12:34] proper liquid courage. Its how I can tell youre british. You can tell a drunk brit anywhere in the world by their genteel bearing even while sloshed

Louis smiled, in spite of himself. Harry had an off-kilter sense of humor and he was easy to talk to. Except…Louis couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this was his tendency to always look for the best in people, seeing wonder and beauty instead of the person who was actually standing before him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d built up expectations about someone only to have them come crashing down about his ears. 

Louis shivered in the shade of the awning over the back exit to the library. It was a very cold day for November, he thought to himself. The snow was dusting the limbs of the trees lining the back side of campus. He walked around the library to the quad and stared at the student union across the frosted grass. Louis felt very much that he did not want to be on campus in the midst of a snowfall and turned to make his way toward the car lot. 

He unlocked the driver’s side door (still the wrong side, he thought) and slid into the cold sedan. Louis settled his bag on the passenger seat and cranked the engine, willing the heat to kick in faster. He unlocked his phone and tried to think of a reply to Harry before he had to drive.

[12:42] I could say the same about you. How long have you been here?

Almost immediately, Harry texted back. It didn’t do much to satisfy Louis’ curiosity, however. Harry had simply replied with the purple devil face emoji. What on earth was Louis to make of that? 

Alright Harry Styles, he thought to himself, you keep your secrets. 

Louis’ arrival back to the flat coincided with Zayn’s half naked shuffle to the bathroom. He looked as if he’d just waken up, and Louis refused to pass up an opportunity to leer dramatically at him and call “hey love, show us your cock”. Zayn’s reply was simply a middle finger waved in Louis’ general direction. 

He made his way to their small kitchen and grabbed a mug for tea. He could hear the water in the pipes running for Zayn’s shower and Louis suppressed an urge to do something childish like flush the toilet while he was showering. 

Louis leaned against the counter as he waited for the kettle to boil. He still had five hours before his report was due in his advisor’s inbox, which clearly meant he could binge watch something on Netflix for at least the next two hours. 

He fixed his tea and made his way to the living room, dropping onto the futon with a groan. Louis cranked the heat up, damn the gas bill, and switched on Top Gear. He spent a dozy couple hours on his couch, snuggled up in a fleecy blanket he pilfered from Niall’s room. The only thing he had to do was zone out and lose himself in motorcar commentary and sip his tea, and he was ace at this activity. 

Niall’s arrival at half three in the afternoon roused him from his quasi vegetative state. He was brimming with confidence and his infectious laugh echoed through the small flat. Zayn poked his head out of his bedroom to see what Niall was going on about. 

Louis stretched and shuffled into the kitchen in his socks. Niall’s outrageous sport metaphors were rather on point, he conceded with a laugh at a footie comparison Niall was driving into the ground. 

“So it went well, then?” Louis asked.

Niall nodded vigorously, smiling all the while. “I was totally overprepared. Score one for Horan.” 

“That’s definitely never happened to me. I am chronically underprepared for generally every circumstance,” Louis replied. 

Zayn’s low laugh filled the kitchen. “We know, Louis.”

“Do you remember writing your admissions essay thirty minutes before it was due?” Niall asked, snort-laughing. 

Louis looked at his blond friend over a turned up nose. “And we all got into the same school, didn’t we?” he said haughtily.

“Yeah, you just almost cocked the whole thing up,” Zayn said, poking him in the ribs. 

“I’ve grown up some, haven’t I lads?” Louis said, looking between his two best mates. 

“We all have,” Niall said gravely, surprising Louis a bit. Niall wasn’t usually the one to offer insights on personal growth. That was generally Zayn’s territory. For his part, the dark haired boy was nodding, his face unreadable. Louis suddenly felt the vastness of the past four years stretch out in his mind. He imagined he was approaching a crossroads, or a precipice soon. Things had remained the same too long, and if Louis knew anything, it was that the only constant thing in life was change itself. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to rely on. 

Niall broke the silence that had descended over the trio. “Are we all done with classes today?” 

Zayn nodded as he fished a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, offering one to Louis, who accepted gratefully. Zayn passed him a Zippo and Louis explained his strategy for his report. 

“I’ve got a draft on my laptop. I worked on it earlier, I just have to proofread it and email it to my advisor.”

Niall nodded and gave some sage advice: “Write sober, edit…stoned?” Louis laughed and high fived him, while Zayn fixed Niall with a bemused stare. 

“I’m pretty sure Hemingway said ‘write drunk, edit sober’. Barely even the same concept.”

“But do we ever need an excuse to get baked?” Louis asked. Zayn had no retort for this undisputable fact and fetched the bong from the living room. Niall produced a sack of green and set to packing the bowl. 

Louis grabbed his bag and yanked his laptop free, and pulled up his almost finished but not quite there report. He allowed himself a minute to sulk over the fact that this was literally the last thing he had to do before the weekend and he had barely any motivation to make sure it was a glowing report. He scanned through what he had written, adding sentences here and there, and deleting things as he went. Louis accepted the bong when Zayn passed it to him still cherried, and he sucked in a big hit of potent smoke. Louis held it in for a bit, setting the glass piece on the table. He blew his smoke out in half formed smoke rings. Niall took this to be a challenge and proceeded to be a show off leprechaun by blowing perfect rings. 

His annoyance with editing and polishing his report waned as the bong made several more circuits. Within twenty five minutes he was more or less pleased with what he’d produced, saved the document, and sent it to his advisor. The trio sat in stoned silence around the kitchen table until Zayn kidnapped Louis’ abandoned laptop to play some music. Niall got a bag of crisps from the cupboard and they demolished it within minutes. 

“Are we still going to Lupo’s?” Zayn asked. 

“Do we have tickets?” Louis returned. “It’s a Friday night, mate. We might be out of luck.”

Zayn scowled and pulled up the website for the venue. “It doesn’t say it’s sold out, we could just go wait in line and see if we can get tickets at the door.”

“Fine with me,” Louis said.

“Let’s do it,” Niall agreed. They remained around the table, each messing around on their mobiles or in Zayn’s case, perusing the Ticketmaster website for upcoming shows in the area. 

Louis tapped on his Facebook icon and liked a couple photos of Lottie’s that she’d posted earlier in the day. He felt a pang of longing to see his family again, coupled with the lingering fear that things were going to fall to pieces sooner rather than later. Louis was not enjoying his current emotional upheaval. He read some articles on BuzzFeed, mindlessly taking in the various listicles and opinion pieces. 

At 4:20 they decided to smoke another bowl pack, for all it was Friday. Louis felt a familiar haze settle over his limbs and his mind felt pleasantly buoyant. No more thundercloud thoughts this afternoon, he told himself. Cheers to the freakin’ weekend. 

Eventually, Zayn started rustling around at the stove, boiling water for pasta. Louis was curled up next to the window smoking a cigarette, tapping it into an empty beer bottle on the windowsill. Niall was engrossed in the next level of Candy Crush, tapping away at his phone with razor precision. 

“Do we want Spongebob macaroni or do we want the regular kind?” Zayn asked, his back to them as he rummaged through the cupboard. 

“Spongebob, clearly,” said Niall. Louis nodded his head enthusiastically. Spongebob macaroni was the nutritional foundation for many of their more exciting experiences at shows and the like. Louis fondly recalled tripping on shrooms at a Papadosio show and the only thing he’d managed to eat for their entire two day trip was Spongebob mac and cheese. 

The rest of the gray afternoon passed quietly. Louis ate a second bowl of mac and cheese as he finger combed pomade through his fringe and washed his face. He spent more than a few minutes deciding what he wanted to wear, after all, they were going to be waiting in line for a show after dark, in Rhode Island, in late November. Louis was expecting to freeze his balls off. He finally decided on black jeans, his boots, and a gray cable knit jumper, just oversize enough to make him look on the right side of naff and not too homeless. He grabbed his denim and leather bomber jacket and pulled it over his arms. Niall and Zayn were getting their shoes on by the front door, and the three of them shuffled out of the flat in a flurry of jackets and cigarette smoke, clicking off the lights as they went. They piled into Louis’ car and were debating the finer points of Guster’s discography as Louis pulled out onto the street in front of their building. The drive to Lupo’s wasn’t a particularly long one, just over the highway and into the other side of Providence, but it was long enough for their spirited debate to descend into Niall whacking Louis on the back of the head for saying that “Keep It Together” was a better album than “Goldfy”. 

He managed to navigate the parking situation fairly well, even with Niall being a twat in the backseat of his car. Louis parallel parked on a side street without mangling any other cars or passersby, and they strode up the block towards Lupo’s, trailing cigarette smoke and condensation from their breath as they approached the venue. A queue had already formed outside, and they came to the end of it almost a block away from the doors. Louis whined a bit, but he had known this was a possibility. Guster was a popular band around these parts, and there were a handful of schools in the greater Providence area. 

He tapped the girl in front of him in line on the shoulder. “D’you know if they’re selling tickets at the door?” he asked.

She replied “yeah but there’s a limited amount. Probably all of us won’t get in but we’ll try our luck.” The girl had a strong New England accent and Louis smiled internally. He’d come to appreciate the hardy and tough New England brand of femininity. Try as he might, he never managed to come off quite as fierce sounding as the local ladies did. 

“It’s whatevs,” Zayn said, lighting another cigarette. He shoved the crushed pack and his Zippo into his jeans pocket (really, how did he fit anything in there? They were quite tight) and cocked his head towards the end of the street. “If we don’t get in we can find a bar to go to or something.”

Louis and Niall nodded, and Louis shoved his hands into his jacket pocket. He’d really wished he’d thought to bring gloves, or a beanie, something to keep him warmer. He felt his phone vibrate against his hip, and he fished it out to see a text message from Harry. 

[19:49] are we still on for that date at three tomorrow?

Louis felt his stomach leap from its normal spot to the back of his throat, and he was momentarily concerned about vomiting Spongebob mac on the pavement outside of the club. 

[19:50] who said it was a date? 

[19:50] you did, two days ago lol

It was official, Louis Tomlinson was going to collapse in a heap on the ground and perhaps cause a scene. Harry Styles was quite literally going to drive him around the bend. Apparently he hadn’t been as subtle in his complete loss of faculties as he’d hoped, because Zayn snatched his mobile out of his hands to see what was freaking him out. 

“Oooer,” Zayn said, waggling his eyebrows at Louis suggestively. “You’ve got a hot date. Who’s it with?”

Louis imagined he could actually see Niall’s ears prick up and the light in his eyes when he turned around was borderline nauseating. He knew the lads were going to take the mickey out of him for ages, but there was no use hiding it from them for much longer, if Harry Styles was going to make him react like this. 

“It’s someone I’m tutoring for biology. It’s not a date, I’m just helping him revise. Dr. Cowell set us up,” he explained. 

“Will you be putting that on the wedding website, then?” Niall asked. “In the ‘how we met’ section?”

“I don’t think most couples do that, Niall,” Louis replied. “I think your brother is just pussywhipped and Denise has too much time on her hands.” This fortunately made Niall cackle with glee instead of pissing him off, and Louis was almost certain he was off the hook. 

“Then why are you acting so strange about it? If it’s not a date, just a regular thing, two lads studying,” Zayn probed, looking Louis dead in the eyes. Louis shuffled under his gaze, knocking one boot against the other, trying to think up a dignified explanation. Realizing there was none, he conceded. 

“Because he’s right fit and a total flirt and I haven’t felt like this in ages,” he blurted out. Zayn got his signature wise oracle look on his face, the look he got when he was about to impart some piece of uniquely Zayn wisdom upon lesser mortals. 

“Do you want me to read the conversation and tell you if---“

“NO!” Louis shouted. That was the last thing he wanted, for Zayn to poke his nose into he and Harry’s conversations. If he let him analyze it, the situation had officially become A Situation, and Louis was not prepared for that. 

“It’s just, it’s not at that point yet. I’ll let you know after tomorrow,” he offered meekly, trying to sound like less of an asshole. Zayn, to his credit, just threw an arm around Louis and pulled him close, engulfing him in the smell of his aftershave mixed with the turpentine bite of paint thinner. 

“I think it’s cute,” Niall piped up. “It’s nice that you fancy someone, Lou. Don’t be a git and overthink it before you’ve even made it off the bench, mate.”

Honestly, when had his mates turned into walking advice columns? “I’ll try to suppress my natural neurotic tendencies,” Louis replied. 

The queue began shuffling forward, and Louis’ phone buzzed again, reminding him that he had only read the text from Harry instead of opening it. 

[19:53] three it is. See u for our not date study date

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and fought the urge to throw himself into traffic. Why was he such a crap texter? Who even said the things he said? 

The trio were about fifteen people back when the bouncers started turning fans away. The tickets had in fact sold out. As they walked away, they debated over where to head to next 

“We could go to Rí Ra,” Niall suggested. 

“Absolutely no. Full stop, no,” Louis protested. “We are not going to an Irish pub while I’m meant to be the designated driver. It’s not fair, I want to have fun too.”

“Let’s just grab some beers at Local 121,” Zayn said, aiming for a compromise. He succeeded, though the promise of beer probably meant more to everyone than the overall harmony of their little group. The bar was only a short walk away, and soon they were filing into the dark, trendy space. They sat at a hightop table and ordered three pints of some fancy seasonal lager that Niall was very enthusiastic about, and some orders of fish and chips to go with it. 

Louis’ phone buzzed yet again, and he dug it out of his pocket with his breath caught in his chest. Just as he (expected? hoped? feared?) it was Harry replying, once again with a sodding emoji. This time, it was a smiling cat face. Louis wasn’t sure if this was some put upon pretense or if Harry was simply a very charming oddball, but he found himself taken with it, very much so. Just to stir the embers a bit, he sent back a beer mug emoji. 

Louis barely had set his mobile down on the table when it vibrated again. Harry had replied with the near twin of what Louis had sent, the two beer mug emoji and the phrase “Avery’s tonight?”

If his stomach had simply shot to his throat earlier with the date comment, this time it felt like it did a total 360° flip inside his abdomen. Louis typed out his reply shakily:

[20:11] nope, not after Wednesday night haha. I have to salvage my dignity if at all possible

Louis was vaguely aware of Zayn and Niall watching him text, but he didn’t care. He was like a junkie who had found a new fix (now there’s a terrifying thought). He didn’t lock his phone, just kept turning it over and over in his hands, tracing the buttons and the screen in an attempt to keep himself busy. Had Harry indirectly asked him out, or was it a more casual question about his weekend plans? Louis felt a bit over his head, and maybe he would ask Zayn about it later, after all. 

A text came in, and he almost threw his phone in surprise. Zayn and Niall actually laughed out loud at him, there’s true friendship for you. 

[20:12] damn I was hoping to catch an encore performance

And then, a winky face emoji. Louis simply laid his head on the table and shut his eyes. Harry Styles was going to be the death of him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're lucky, two updates in one day!

They didn’t stay at Local 121 for that long, by some miracle. Louis managed to drive back to the apartment with a modicum of composure and blessedly, it’s a short drive. He pulled into his parking spot in front of their building and turned off the engine. Between the three of them, they’d only consumed five beers, which Louis thought quite possibly was a record low for them. 

When they got inside the apartment, Louis made the sharp turn to walk into his bedroom. Zayn had other plans, and caught him by the back of his denim jacket. 

“Hold up, Louis,” he said. “Don’t be a recluse. FIFA?” Louis had a very hard time saying no to Zayn’s proposal. Laying about in his room alone would most definitely only serve to increase his anxiety. 

“Alright then, but you’ve got to provide snacks.” Louis cocked one hip defiantly. “And weed.”

His statement was met with Niall throwing a bag of Tostitos at him before grabbing salsa from the fridge. 

“I’ll get the weed,” Zayn offered, making off towards his own bedroom. Louis brought the chips and salsa into the living room and made room on their cheap IKEA coffee table. Niall followed him with a huge bottle of soda. 

Zayn walked into the room, holding the bong in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “You need to relax,” he said, sitting down and pointing at Louis. “You’re going to give yourself a panic attack or something if you keep freaking out at the slightest thing he says.”

Louis nodded sheepishly, holding his hands out for the bong. He took a big hit and blew the smoke at the heater before grabbing a controller off the futon and starting the game. 

He and Zayn engaged in several spirited matches with Niall egging them on and smoke filling the oddly shaped room. It wasn’t until close to midnight that Zayn flipped the TV to cable so they could watch Late Night With Seth Meyers. Louis, Zayn and Niall were stretched out on the various couches in the room, arms and legs overlapping in a tangle of fabric and body heat. 

Louis tried his hardest not to give in to his desire to check his phone, which he’d left charging in the kitchen. He succeeded for nearly all of Seth’s show, before finally caving and fetching his phone under the guise of getting a cup of tea. He surreptitiously checked his mobile while the kettle was on. 

No text, but Harry Styles had added him as a friend on Snapchat. Good lord, Louis thought. This was definitely going to be the cause of his demise. He accepted his request and by the time he was done fixing his cup of tea, Harry had sent him a snap. Louis clicked on it, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. It was a simple shot, the lit up sign at Avery’s. The caption was brief: the scene was a bit boring. h. 

Louis smiled to himself and sent back a snap of his cup of Yorkshire tea with the caption: can’t go to sleep without a cup of tea #bedtime

He flopped back down on the futon, being careful not to slosh his hot tea everywhere. Zayn and Niall were both zoned out in front of the telly, sleepy with the heat pumping and weed in their veins. Louis’ phone lit up with a snap from Harry. It was a few second video of the lights of Providence Place mall and the Dunkin Center, blurry and clearly taken out of a car window. He smiled at the simple caption: homeward bound. c u tomoro..h

Harry’s weird punctuation added to the charm quotient that was heating up Louis’ chest. Seth Meyers went off a bit later, and the station changed to a local news report. Louis tuned in for the weather report and groaned at the forecast-snow flurries for the majority of Saturday. His noise of protest startled Zayn and Niall out of their dozy states and they stretched and grumbled themselves awake. 

“Bed,” Zayn grunted, rubbing a hand over his tired, reddened eyes. He stumbled out of the room, soon followed by Niall, who clapped Louis’ shoulder as he passed by. Louis shut off the television set and the lights in the living room before setting his mug down in the sink. He brushed his teeth in the dark and shut out all the lights and locked the door before shutting himself in his own room. 

Louis opened his laptop and put on his Lana Del Rey mix-he was perfectly comfortable being a walking stereotype, thank you very much. He shucked off his jeans and jacket, then changed his boxers because, well, he had to have some hygienic standards. He debated keeping his warm jumper on, but in the end he decided on some flannel sleep pants and a plain white tee. He plugged in his string lights and settled into the nest of pillows and his big duvet on his bed. Louis connected his mobile to the charger and set an alarm for 10 the next morning-no need for him to get up too early, but Louis didn’t want to oversleep, by any means. 

He felt drowsy and warm, and for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like he was going to have to smoke to fall asleep. Louis lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come to him. 

His wish was partially granted. Louis was floating in that weird space between awake and asleep, sort of conscious but also a little hallucinating. To his dismay, his thoughts wandered to a collection of particularly painful memories regarding his mother, and he just couldn’t force them anywhere else. He was remembering a time, he must have been sixteen or seventeen, when the cracks in his mum’s marriage to his step-father, Mark, really started to show. The first time they’d had a huge row, Mark had slept in a hotel for the next two nights, and Louis’ mum had sat on the couch in the front parlor, cocooned in Xanax. Louis had to manage his sisters for a couple days, all the while juggling school. He hadn’t told Zayn or Niall while it was going on, he’d been too ashamed. How could he explain what was going on with his mum? He didn’t know anyone else whose mum checked out like his did. Eventually, Mark came round and things didn’t deteriorate for real until Louis was a student at RIC. He knew he was getting dangerously close to thinking about things he really wanted to avoid. 

Louis’ eyes shot open and he flipped over to face the door. He grabbed his phone and checked the time; it had barely been an hour since he’d left the living room to lay down. He debated his options: he could smoke (and probably take something, too, he didn’t think it was a simple enough problem to be solved by smoking alone), or he could try Zayn or Niall’s room. 

Louis didn’t particularly want to gratify Zayn’s suspicions about him being tense and on the verge of a panic attack in the face of even marginally potential intimacy. Niall, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t pry as much as Zayn did. But Louis knew that there were very few secrets between the three of them, and Niall wouldn’t think to not mention it in passing in front of Zayn. 

So in the end, he really only had one option. Louis packed a bowl in his bubbler and toked on, steadfastly ignoring a small thought that maybe he ought to find a better coping skill, and swallowing a Xanax dry. He went to the bathroom and cupped his hand under the faucet, drinking from his palm to force the bitter pill down his throat. There was no noise from either Zayn or Niall’s rooms. Just as well. He shut the door to his room quietly and crawled back into bed. Louis shut his eyes and traced the path of air through the respiratory system until he drifted off into a blank sleep. 

The morning light filtering through his window was greyish white, belying the snow flurries probably falling outside. Louis woke up with his alarm and snuggled into the covers a bit. His bedroom had gotten colder during the night. He’d have to dig out the heavy curtains for his window that were actually effective at keeping out drafts. Louis got out of bed and tugged a pair of thick wool socks on (thanks, Mrs. Horan) before heading out into the kitchen. 

Zayn and Niall’s doors were still closed, which meant there was no one to make him breakfast. Louis sighed dramatically and went to the cupboard for cereal. He poured some milk into the bowl and sat at the table. He felt like he should have something to read. In the absence of a morning paper, he went to his room and got his phone. Louis made the rounds on his social networks, checking in and catching up with people. Harry hadn’t been on for nine hours, he noticed, and tried not to feel super creepy about it. 

He was on his second bowl of cereal and fourth New York Times article when Zayn joined him in the kitchen. 

“Want a cuppa?” he asked blearily, over by the kettle. 

“Yes, please.” Louis was grateful to have his best mates as his roommates. They’d worked out a good system over the last couple years. Louis finished his cereal and took the bowl to the sink. He leaned against the counter next to Zayn and watched the darker haired boy attempt to organize their tea collection. 

“So what time’s the tutoring extravaganza?” asked Zayn. Louis crossed his arms over his chest, immediately feeling uncomfortable with this particular line of questioning. 

“Not until three,” he said tightly. 

Zayn chuckled and brushed his hand along Louis’ shoulder. “You really just need to relax.”

Louis bristled and replied, “Maybe I could if people stopped bringing up my lack of relaxation so frequently.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows and backed away a few steps. “Easy there. I’m just being a mate.”

Louis sighed and dropped his forehead into his hands. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap when I’m on edge and I don’t even know why I’m on edge in the first place. It’s totally not a proportionate reaction.”

Zayn appraised him from across the small kitchen. “Because you’re sensitive, and you’re hopeful, and you can get hurt, under all your asshole exterior,” he said softly. “You try hard to keep up this sarcastic front and you’re stressing yourself out trying to fight your natural emotions, Lou.” 

The kettle whistled, and Louis turned around quickly so Zayn wouldn’t see his eyes cloud over with tears. He was a real, honest to god piece of work. Louis wasn’t really sure how or why his friends put up with him, but he was glad they did. He wiped his eyes stealthily with the back of his hand, hoping Zayn didn’t notice. He turned back and handed the mug to his friend. 

“Day in the life,” he said, trying to infuse chipperness into his voice. It only sounded a bit fake. 

“Gonna be cold today,” Zayn mused, nodding at the flurries outside their window. More snow had accumulated over the night, more than just a few centimeters now. 

“I know. I need to get my car winterized. It snuck up on me this year,” he said, keeping the conversation going. 

At that moment, Niall’s door opened and he trundled into the kitchen, wearing only boxers and tube socks. 

“Classy look, Horan,” Louis called, raising his mug in a mock toast. Niall simply made his way to the refrigerator before grabbing a carton of orange juice and drinking straight from it. Louis wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything, realizing that it would be fighting a losing battle. 

Niall set to making beans on toast and Zayn joined him, the two of them eating at the table and Louis sitting on the windowsill. They passed a half hour or so that way, chatting together over weekend plans before Louis was restless and got up to grab a cigarette. He lit one and passed it between him and Zayn, debating how much time he had for a shower. Louis was prone to losing track of time in the shower, and he didn’t want to accidentally spend an hour and a half sitting mindlessly under the spray. 

They finished the cigarette and Louis tossed the butt in the trash can. He made for the shower and cranked the hot water, stripping in front of the mirror. Louis’ most recent tattoo was a banner on his chest, reading “it is what it is”. He dragged his index finger across it, pleased with how it looked. When the steam began licking at the mirror, he climbed into the shower and stepped under the water. He wanted to give his hair plenty of time to dry so it didn’t look weird when he met Harry. Neurotic? Yes, but did that stop him? No, of course not. 

Louis managed to keep his shower to a manageable timeframe, while still checking off every item on his mental checklist. He’d shampooed and conditioned his hair, exfoliated his face even. He felt fresh and clean, a blank slate ready for the day. He climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed another to get as much water out of his hair as possible. 

Louis dried himself off, more or less, and went to his room for his wardrobe decision. He wanted to exude a casual air, but he didn’t want to look careless. He didn’t want to be too formal, either. Louis felt very strongly that being overdressed was not his objective. 

He decided on a pair of worn-in, but still acceptable jeans (he thought they maybe gave off a bit of a vintage vibe) and a Henley with red sleeves and a charcoal grey torso. He paired this with his leather and denim jacket from the night before and toweled his hair again. 

Louis looked at himself in the mirror, and he liked what he saw. He could see the edges of the scroll on his chest tattoo peeking out over the neck of his shirt, and he liked the effect. His jeans sat low on his hips, but were snug in all the right places. Deciding it was too early for shoes, he just put on another pair of thick wooly socks. 

He opened the door to his bedroom and saw that Zayn and Niall were still where he left them, deeply immersed in a discussion about the latest footie results, it seemed. Louis grabbed a soda from the fridge and went to sit in the living room, turning on the television to distract himself for as long as he could. 

Louis watched three episodes of Say Yes to the Dress and one episode of Four Weddings before he checked the time and decided that he should set about fixing his hair. In the bathroom, he fussed with the mostly dry strands before deciding that it was actually most definitely a day for a beanie. 

Zayn and Louis had gone out, but not without Zayn lingering about dropping hints about Louis and Harry meeting and his very keen interest in knowing how it went, before Louis literally shooed him out the door. The two were going grocery shopping, just as well. Louis started gathering his school stuff, and located his old biology notes in a box in his closet. It had been a while since he’d studied introductory biology but he felt confident that he would be able to at least marginally tutor Harry Styles. 

He hit his bubbler a few times to calm his nerves, but then felt like he needed to brush his teeth in case his breath smelled like weed. He gargled with Listerine, just to make sure. 

Not fifteen minutes later, Louis was sitting in his car outside his flat trying to pick the perfect song for his drive to school. He finally settled on more Lana Del Rey, hoping to lose himself in her lush sound. Louis smoked a cigarette with shaking hands on the short drive to campus, and pulled into a spot in the middle of the car lot.   
He stepped out of the car and grabbed his shoulder bag. Louis adjusted his hair, bending down to see in his side mirror. There wasn’t much he could do at that point, but he felt a shaky confidence in his appearance. He felt like he’d reached the casual yet cool goal. The walk to the student union building had never seemed longer. Campus stretched out before him in a long blur of white, gray and brown-the palette of early winter. He climbed carefully up the steps to the union, crunching the rock salt beneath his boots. Louis held the door open for a sorority girl behind him, and she smiled at him as she ducked under his arm. 

He half-jogged down the stairs and into the basement level café. He couldn’t see Harry, and he wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. He decided it gave him a sort of home field advantage, as he could get his drink, pick a spot and get settled without being rattled by Harry’s presence. Louis queued up to order his latte and paid with his student ID. He’d managed to just take the first sip of his coffee when Harry appeared in the doorway to the café. 

To his great dismay, Harry looked divine. He was wearing a black, long-sleeved button down with the first three buttons undone, some tan cords that were quite cool, and big, black biker boots. Louis thought he was definitely a goner. 

Harry spotted him and smiled. Louis waved weakly at him. 

“Hi,” he said, a bit more breathily than he would have liked. 

“Hey there”, Harry said, his voice every bit as deep as Louis remembered. 

“Um, I just got my drink, I hadn’t gotten a chance to sit down,” Louis explained, trying not to babble. He was, after all, older than Harry. For all Harry knew, Louis was a cool senior, who was taking time out of his schedule to tutor him…except that Harry had seen him-rather, a drunk Louis ran into Harry at a bar and Harry definitely remembered and was also kind of flirty. Louis felt a bit woozy, and sat down at the nearest table. 

“This work?” he asked, his voice high. 

Harry nodded, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. Oh lord, his mouth. Louis, in a show of possibly superhuman strength, wrenched his mind from all thoughts of Harry Styles’ beautiful mouth, and instead focused on the taste of his coffee. He unpacked his old biology binder as he waited for Harry to make himself comfortable at the small table. 

“Did you have a good night?” Harry asked him, startling Louis a bit. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, trying to keep his cool. “Bit of a quiet night, really. But I didn’t mind. I promise I’m not a drunk mess 24/7.”

“Ah, so only on Wednesdays.” Harry said, a laugh coloring his voice. 

Louis felt heat rise in his cheeks, but he just chuckled and said, “Yes, only Wednesdays,” before pointedly opening his binder. “So where should we start?” he asked. 

“Well, I’ve managed to make it all semester but I’m having a hard time with the chapter on DNA.” Harry said, his brow furrowing. “I need to ace the midterm and the final.”

Louis nodded resolutely. “I can help you with DNA. It’s not that hard once you grasp the basic concept of it.”

“That’s the problem. I just don’t get a lot of the biology. The only reason I’ve managed to pass so far is by teaching myself the lesson again after the lecture, but I’m in over my head now.” Harry tugged on one of his long brown curls. “It’s maddening. I’m a good student, I swear.”

Louis nodded again at him. “I believe you. Hell, I have trouble all the time. Maths is no good,” he said, miming hanging himself. Harry smiled at him and Louis felt his stomach do the flippy thing again. He quickly took a sip of his hot coffee to drown out the feeling. 

He cleared his throat. “Alright, then. Well, I guess, let’s get started?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who's reading this story, it's a lot of fun to write (:

It wasn’t too bad, once Louis got used to Harry actually being there. They started with the basics. Louis explained the structure of the double helix, nucleotides, and the basics of DNA synthesis. For two and a half hours, Louis and Harry sat at the cramped table in the café, heads bent over Louis’ binder and Harry’s textbook. 

“So which of the nucleic acids are purines and which ones are pyramidines again?” Louis prompted, tapping his pencil absentmindedly on the table. They were almost to the end of the review packet, and Harry was a fairly quick study. 

“So adenine and guanine are purines, right? A and G,” Harry said. “Which leaves thymine and cytosine.”

Louis nodded and prompted, “Except for uracil which is found only in…?”

“RNA,” Harry answered confidently. “I think I might have learned this at some point, but it clearly didn’t stick.”

“I know what you mean. I don’t think I paid attention to anything in school. I wasn’t thinking I would need to know it later. Didn’t really plan on the whole university thing.”

“It’s something to do,” Harry said cryptically. “Passes the time,” he added, by way of an explanation, Louis wondered. It didn’t explain much of anything. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just nodded. 

“Do you want to set up like a scheduled time to meet or something?” Louis asked suddenly, still unsure of what to say and trying to fill the silence. 

Harry smiled at him in his weird, wide mouthed, crooked smile and Louis felt briefly undone. “Yeah, it’d be probably good to have something regular-like,” Harry said. “I dunno. Nights are good for me, I guess. Can we actually do like, Monday and Thursday?” He asked, looking at Louis. 

“Works for me,” Louis found himself saying. It did, though, really. He wouldn’t be starting a new clinical placement until the next semester, and his cohort was just meeting weekly to work on patient care standards and the like. He began putting his school things back in his shoulder bag. Harry was still sitting at the table, but he’d sprawled back in his chair, with his arm cast over the back. 

“What are you up to this weekend?” Harry asked, appraising Louis. 

Louis stopped messing with his bag. “Nothing, really. I’m probably just going to hang out with my roommates and whatnot.”

“Do I know them?” Harry asked.

“Zayn Malik and Niall Horan? They’re RIC students too.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t know them. Then again, I keep a small circle.” Harry ended his statement with a smirk. 

Louis wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he opened his mouth and said, “It’s a bit weird, innit? Like, I don’t know about you, but when I came here I figured I’d make loads of new American mates and it’s kind of like I’m still hanging with the same two lads from home.”

Harry gave him a long, searching glance. “I’ve been here since I was fifteen,” he said. “I have a fair amount of American friends. The only other English people I know are my mum and my sister.”

Louis had the sense that Harry had divulged more than he’d planned. His face, which had before had a look of contemplation on it, closed off, replaced by a look that some could describe as haughty, and Louis took to be self-assured.  
“My family’s still in Doncaster,” Louis offered quietly. 

“D’you miss them?” Harry asked suddenly. 

Louis nodded, looking off in the distance. “I do. Yeah. Me mum’s had twins since I’ve been gone and I haven’t even met them yet.” Louis realized only how sad that sounded once he said it out loud, and winced internally. He hated people who looked for pity at every turn, and he didn’t like sounding like that kind of person. 

Harry quirked his head to the side a bit, still holding Louis in his gaze. “I can’t imagine that,” he said simply. 

It was a breathless and strangely tranquil moment before Harry blinked and cracked his knuckles. 

“I should be off soon. I’m going to a lacrosse party tonight. Gotta carb up,” he said, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

“Yeah, me too,” Louis said. “Well, not the lacrosse party but…I’m off, too,” he trailed off awkwardly. “I’ll see you Monday?” 

“Yeah, I’ll text you,” Harry said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. His brow furrowed as he checked the screen and Louis felt something in the atmosphere change, like whatever was there seconds before was gone. He quietly shouldered his bag and made his way to the stairs, waving over his shoulder at Harry. 

Louis made his way to his car, noting with distaste the accumulation of snow over the course of the day. He was hungry, he hadn’t eaten besides the cereal and a coffee, and his stomach was growling insistently. He climbed in the car and drove down Mt. Pleasant to the bodega by his flat. 

He meandered through the aisles, picking up bread, cheese slices and a double bottle of white wine (judge him, please). Louis paid for his choices and walked back out into the cold to his car. He brushed snowflakes off the shoulders of his jacket and drove around the corner to their building. Louis encountered one of his neighbors, another university student, probably, on the landing by the stairs, and he nodded to him while he unlocked his door. 

The flat smelled like weed and Niall’s cooking. Louis kicked off his boots with some difficulty and set his bag down on the kitchen table. 

“Hello?” he called, wondering where his roommates were. Louis could hear voices coming from the hall to the bedrooms, and as he stuck his head around the corner, Niall popped out of Zayn’s room and smiled at him.

“How’d the ‘study date’ go?” Niall asked, managing to make the air quotes uncomfortably apparent. Louis glared at his blond friend as he walked into Zayn’s room. 

“It was just fine” he said, only a little bit snarky. Niall just grinned at him, and Louis couldn’t help but cave because of his stupid grin. “Ok, it was cool, yeah? He’s cool. And fit,” Louis threw himself dramatically on Zayn’s bed. Zayn was propped up in the corner of the bed, leaning on the wall with his computer on his lap and his glasses on his head. He smiled at Louis. 

“Did you help him with his biology?” 

“Yeah. I think I’m going to look through all my shit and see if I kept my papers from the class. No reason to let good work go to waste.”

“That’s cheating, Lou,” Zayn admonished. 

Louis shrugged noncommittally. “I mean, he can’t be stupid enough to copy it word for word. No one does that.”

“If you say so.”

Niall was sitting on the swivel chair at Zayn’s desk strumming on his guitar. He was playing scales, and Louis momentarily lost himself remembering back when he and Niall met in third form, when they’d had music together and spent most of their time messing about instead of actually playing their instruments. Still, Louis remembered how to play scales (and a few songs, too) on the piano, and Niall was a naturally gifted musician, the type of kid who brought his guitar to the quad in the spring, and drummed on any surface available with his hands when songs played. 

“So, it’s Saturday,” Zayn said, looking at the two others expectantly. “What are we doing tonight?”

“We could watch the hockey game at a bar,” Niall offered. “The Bruins are playing.”

Louis made a face at him. “You’re the only one who likes hockey, Niall.”

“Hey, a bar is a bar, Louis,” Niall countered. 

“We could see if anyone’s having a party,” said Zayn. 

Before he even knew his mouth was opening, Louis heard himself say “Harry Styles is going to the lacrosse party tonight.” Damn, he thought. Double damn. 

Niall stopped strumming and looked at him, a shit eating grin on his face. “Oh IS he now?”  
“We don’t know any lacrosse players,” Zayn reminded Niall. 

“Exactly!” Louis agreed eagerly.

“No, but Harry Styles does. And Louis knows Harry Styles,” Niall continued, making Louis regret reminiscing so fondly about third form earlier. 

“No. No lacrosse party,” Louis said emphatically. “That’d be so creepy, can you even imagine? If I showed up there after I told him I was spending the night at home, and we don’t even know anyone on the team to have an excuse to be there otherwise. We’re not going,” he finished. 

“You suggest something then, Lou,” Zayn said. Louis just sighed dramatically and shut his eyes. 

“I don’t particularly care what we do tonight, just as long as it in no way, shape or form includes the lacrosse party.”

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Niall said. “And if you don’t have any ideas, let’s just go to a bar and get pissed while watching hockey.”

Louis looked at Zayn, who shrugged. “I’m down. Are you down, Lou?”

Louis nodded. “I suppose there are worse ways to spend a Saturday night.”

They drove to The Whiskey Republic across the river, and Louis parked in an overnight car lot in case he got too drunk to drive home. He locked the car and the three of them made their way up the snow-covered street into the warmth and noise of the bar, which was already full of people watching the hockey game and drinking. They snagged a high top with a good view of one of the big screen televisions and ordered a pitcher of beer. 

Louis played with the foam on the rim of his pint glass and surveyed his forearms. He studied the tattoo of the three birds on his wrist and the other random ink drawings up his arms. He thought about adding a new tattoo, but he wasn’t really sure what he wanted. Not that that had particularly stopped him before, but Louis had a sneaking suspicion that his propensity to ink his body without a second thought probably had something to do with his being insecure in his identity, or something. 

He tuned back into Zayn and Niall’s conversation when he realized they were discussing food. Louis made his desire for nachos apparent, but conceded that they also probably did need hot wings as well. He tried to lose himself in Zayn’s story about a kid in his psychology class who had a personal anecdote for literally every topic of discussion, laughing at the appropriate times and it wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was just that Louis was finding it hard to keep himself focused on what Zayn was saying. He couldn’t help it that he was replaying moments from the afternoon with Harry backwards and forwards in his mind, remembering how Harry had tapped his foot nearly the whole time and how the skin on his hands looked when he flexed them around the pen he was holding. 

The Bruins scored, saving Louis from having to struggle to keep an interested look on his face. Niall was whooping and high fiving people at the table next to them, and Zayn was topping off their glasses with more beer. Louis grabbed his glass and took a few more swallows, looking around the restaurant. Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket, sending electrifying tingles straight into his thigh. He fished it out of the pocket of his jeans and saw that he had a friend request from Liam Payne. Louis smiled when he saw that it was definitely the barista from the library. He accepted the request and his heart skipped a beat when he saw his profile picture. Liam and Harry were standing by a ping pong table, with Harry’s arm around Liam. What Louis was really focusing on was the scarf wrapped around Harry’s head and the way his sweater hung off his collarbones. And it wasn’t that Liam was bad looking himself, he looked quite cool without his barista’s apron on and a hat smashing down his hair. 

He was so engrossed in his admiration of Liam’s profile picture that he didn’t notice Zayn leaning over his shoulder, looking at the screen of his phone. 

“Who’s he? He’s hot,” Zayn said. 

Louis clutched his phone protectively. “Back off, you slag! That’s Harry!”

“Which one?” Zayn demanded. “I’m not talking about the one in the headscarf,” he added. 

“Oh,” Louis said. “That’s Liam. He’s Harry’s roommate.”

“Figures you’d have it on for a guy in a headscarf,” Zayn said, poking Louis in the side. 

“I’m just saying you have a type. It’s unwashed hipster,” he continued, a smile on his face. 

Niall turned his attention back to them. “Oh, are we discussing Louis’ taste in men?” 

Louis was saved from murdering his two best mates by their appetizers arriving and shifting the attention away from him. 

The three of them absolutely demolished their food and ordered another pitcher of beer. To his great delight, Niall and Zayn seemed to have moved on from teasing him about his propensity for falling in like with hipster boys who had long hair and wore a lot of plaid.  
They were well into their second pitcher of beer and the Bruins kept scoring when Niall decided that since they were at The Whiskey Republic and his team was winning, it was an occasion for shots. Louis tossed back a couple shots, definitely feeling like they’d have to take a cab home. Niall went to the bar to grab another pitcher of beer and was engulfed into a crowd of men wearing hockey kits. He emerged, several minutes later, balancing a pitcher of beer and one hand and a tray of shots in the other. 

“Everyone’s right cheerful at the bar,” he said, by way of explaining the tray. “The Bruins are slaughtering the Flyers and people are being generous. This one bloke was buying trays for everyone.”

“Well you won’t catch me turning down free shots,” Louis announced, and grabbed two of the glasses, handing one to Zayn. “Bottoms up, lads,” he said before knocking back the liquor. He grimaced a bit as the vodka burned his throat. He definitely was on the way to being solidly drunk. 

“We are deffo taking a cab home, boys,” he slurred. Louis picked his phone up off the table to take a selfie. He snapped it to Harry with what he hoped were funny emojis and opened a snap from Stan of some friends from home playing football. Almost immediately, he got a snap back from Harry. It was a blurry, thumbs-up selfie in a kitchen crowded with people. 

After heading to the loo and finishing off the last of the third pitcher, Louis whined and leaned on Zayn’s shoulder. 

“Zaynnn, get us a cab?” he asked, snuggling into his friend’s warmth. “Wanna go home and sit on the couch and smoke,” he mumbled. 

Zayn wrapped an arm around Louis and tugged him close. “Yeah, bud. You gonna get your car in the morning?”

Louis nodded, burying his face in Zayn’s flannel. “S’alright. I locked it up.”

Zayn pulled out his phone and ordered an über. “Driver’s gonna be here in ten minutes, love,” he said, nudging Louis, who nodded up at him. 

“Thanks, Zaynie.”

“Niall, will you get the check?” Zayn said to the blond boy, who nodded and launched himself into the crowd of people to close out the tab. 

“C’mon, up you get,” Zayn said to Louis, towing him up by the arm. “Put on your jacket, Lou.” 

Louis shimmied his way into his jacket and put his phone in his pocket, trying to make his movements sure and deliberate and not totally drunk. His mind was already back in his warm, cozy living room, where he was wrapped up in a blanket with Zayn’s bong and Netflix. 

Zayn, Niall and Louis made their way out of the crowded bar and onto the cold, snowy street. Niall lit a cigarette and passed it to Louis, who accepted it gratefully. He pulled the warm smoke into his lungs and breathed it out in white clouds before passing it back. Their über driver pulled up and they piled into the backseat of the car in a mess of coats and legs. Louis was in the middle, much to his delight, sandwiched by the warmth of his friends. 

“I love you lads, I really, really do,” he said happily, trying to put his arms around both of them simultaneously. Niall laughed and ruffled Louis’ hair, making him shriek. 

“I think Harry Styles is rubbing off on you, Lou,” Niall teased. “Your hair’s getting proper long now.”

“I wish Harry Styles would rub off on me,” Louis said, inhibitions lost in the haze of alcohol. Zayn laughed loudly at that. 

“Liam’s not half bad, either.” Zayn said, and Louis gave him a look. 

“If you’d spent any time in the library over the past couple years, you’d know he’s a barista at the café. He’s been making me coffee for ages now,” Louis drawled. “He is fit, out of the apron.”

They arrived home quickly; people seemed to be staying off the snowy roads. They clambered out of the car and up the concrete and into their building. 

Louis tossed his coat on a chair in the kitchen and made a beeline for the bathroom. He took another piss and examined his face in the mirror. His hair was getting long, Niall was right. His scruff had grown back in and he had bags under his eyes. Louis washed his hands and gulped some water straight from the tap. 

When he walked into the living room, Zayn and Niall already had the bong out and were packing a bowl. Louis flopped down on the couch and grabbed a blue afghan, wrapping it around his body. 

“Look, a Louis burrito!” Niall laughed, pointing at Louis, who stuck his tongue out at him. 

“I’m all snuggly, call me what you want. I know which one of us has a warm arse.” He retorted. 

Zayn exhaled a big cloud of smoke, filling the room with the musty smell of weed smoke. 

“I think you have sex on the brain, Louis,” he said. “You need to get laid,” he advised sagely, passing the bong and lighter to Louis, who took it with a dirty look. 

“This coming from the patron saint of chastity,” Louis said snarkily before sparking the bowl. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being picky,” Zayn said mildly. 

Louis held the smoke in his lungs and counted the seconds, exhaling after six. “This is good shit. D’you remember the first time we smoked?”

Niall cackled and grabbed the bong from Louis. “Behind the science block at Hayfield with that absolute gutter weed that Greg got us.”

“I don’t think we got proper high until you started going to those uni parties, Louis.”

Louis remembered back in the beginning of six form when he’d had a massive crush on one of the guys on the local football club team who’d gone to university near Doncaster. He’d followed Jeremy to parties, trying to blend in while simultaneously catch his attention. It wasn’t much of a romance but it had made him and his friends regulars on the party scene and their horizons had been broadened. 

Louis smiled contentedly and leaned back into the couch. “Good times,” he said fondly. Things were simpler, back then. He had much less to worry about, even if he did have a front seat to his mother’s breakdowns. He’d thought that getting away would be the solution, so he went as far away as he conceivably could: America. Zayn had helped him settle on Rhode Island, and after several anxiety filled weeks when he’d been afraid he’d be setting off to the States by himself, to forge a new life in a different country with no support, Zayn and Niall had sat him down in a coffee shop and told him they’d convinced their respective parents to let them apply to schools in Rhode Island with Louis. It had cemented their friendship, and he’d had loads of great times while at RIC, but he certainly wasn’t a stranger to the darker times, either. Louis pushed any cloudy sad thoughts out of his mind and took another hit off the bong. 

He was starting to doze off, cushioned by the soft blanket and the hot air pouring out of the heater and an intense body high, but his phone vibrated in his pocket. Louis dug it out lazily and checked the screen with blurry eyes. Harry had texted him. 

[22:47] surrounded by drunk americans. i think i prefer drunk brits ;)

Louis felt like the nerve endings in his fingers had lit on fire. He wasn’t naïve by any means, not anymore, at least, and he knew very well what the implications of a winky face were. He lay there, a bit frozen, not really sure how to respond. Niall and Zayn were totally engrossed in an in-depth discussion of Niall’s attraction to a particular sorority girl. They weren’t paying any attention to him. He took a shaky breath and looked at the blinking cursor. 

[22:48] I thought you said you didn’t know any british ppl in America

Louis hoped he sounded flirtatious, not accusing. He had a hard time knowing what to say over text messages, and it was invariably awkward when he’d failed to convey the tone of the message, and misunderstandings had arisen. He didn’t have to wait long for Harry’s response, and Louis got a little thrill out of knowing that Harry was by his phone-waiting for Louis to respond, just like Louis was waiting for him. 

[22:48] I know you.  
[22:48] and i like what i saw of drunk Louis

Louis laid the phone down on his chest. How on earth had things changed so drastically in such a short period of time? This time last month, not even this time last week, he’d been going about his life knowing absolutely nothing about Harry Styles. Now, in the space of a week, he’d gone from making a fool out of himself in front of him at Avery’s, to tutoring him, and now, flirting with him. He suddenly felt a bit dizzy. 

“Zayn?” he called, reaching an arm out towards his friend. “I’m tired. Can I sleep in your room?” he asked, turning on his puppy dog eyes. Zayn just smiled at him, nodded, and cocked his head towards the hall.

Louis stood up, a bit unsteady, and Niall caught him by the elbow. He was expecting a sassy response, but the look in Niall’s eyes was the genuine, kind look that Louis remembered drawing him to Niall in the first place. He let Niall guide him out of the living room and into Zayn’s bedroom, where he climbed into the bed and snuggled up next to the wall. Niall sat on the foot of the bed, his back against the wall as well. Zayn followed them in, shutting the door. Niall kicked off his trainers and Louis wiggled out of his jeans. Nights like this, where he felt clingy and a bit vulnerable and definitely more than a little confused, he was glad their relationship was the way it was. He took comfort in knowing that they had a routine, that things weren’t weird or awkward and they could draw on each other for support without it being an issue. Zayn crawled into bed with them and turned on the lamp on his bedside table. 

Louis stuck his phone underneath the pillow and tried valiantly, for a few moments, to keep up with what Zayn and Niall were talking about (still Niall’s girl problems, it seemed), but he was exhausted and was failing to keep his eyes open. He realized he hadn’t texted Harry back, and retrieved his phone from under his head. Louis stared at the screen before typing out a response. 

[22:57] I’ll take that as a compliment, then :) 

He felt like maybe sending a winky face back would be a little too bold, after all, he was immensely attracted to Harry but he didn’t want him to think he was an easy lay. Satisfied that he’d responded in the right way, Louis kept his eyes open long enough to get an octopus emoji back from Harry, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. Please accept a chapter that's a bit longer than all the others. I'm applying to grad school, it sucks.

Louis woke up the next morning, and to his great delight, he didn’t have too much of a hangover. Zayn was lying on his stomach next to him; his face smooth in sleep, and Niall was quite literally lying at the foot of the bed like he was the family dog or something. Louis stretched, trying not to dislodge either of his friends in the bed. It was big enough for two, but three was definitely pushing it. 

Louis wriggled out of the duvet and tried to figure out the least disruptive way to get out of bed. He had a pressing need for a piss and a cigarette. He managed to grab his phone and climb over Zayn without him waking up. God, he slept like a rock. Louis crept silently out of the room and walked to the bathroom. After he was done with the toilet, he debated the merits of shower over cigarette. He decided he could do both, and went to the kitchen to filch a cigarette from Zayn’s jacket. He lit it and propped his feet up on another seat. He liked being up in the early morning. The sun was filtering weakly through the gray clouds, but no snowflakes were falling yet. He checked his phone, but the only notifications were from Instagram. Harry had liked some of his photos, but hadn’t followed him. Louis didn’t even need to go to his profile to be sure that “harryx” was Harry Styles. He could tell from the tiny photo. 

Sunday morning stretched out before him. Louis reckoned he should get up and go to campus at some point, do some work in the library. He had a literature review due in his Intro to Nursing Writing and Research class. Honestly, Louis wasn’t going into the field to do research on nursing, but it was a graduation requirement, no way out of taking it. 

He finished his cigarette and went back to the bathroom, turned on the shower and stripped. Louis stepped under the spray and let the water soak him. He shampooed and got halfway through conditioning his hair when he realized his morning wood hadn’t exactly gone away. He leaned one of his hands on the smooth tile wall of the shower and let the water run in currents over his bent head and body as he stroked his cock to full hardness. Louis wasn’t surprised when Harry Styles floated to the surface of his memory. His big, expressive hands and his wide mouth. Louis lost himself thinking about how Harry’s hands would look running over his skin and how his mouth would look with Louis’ cock in it. This mental image made him whine, and he clenched his fingers into a fist as his other hand pumped his cock faster. 

Louis came in a matter of minutes. He hadn’t wanked in ages, he thought absently, rinsing his body off under the spray of the shower. He did feel significantly less stressed, though. He toweled himself off and opened the door. The difference in temperature between the bathroom and the hall was drastic, and Louis felt his skin prick up with gooseflesh. 

His own bedroom wasn’t much better, cold after a night of zero occupancy. Louis pulled on some briefs and a pair of soft sweatpants, and grabbed a hoodie from the pile of clothes on a chair. He wrapped the towel around his head in a turban, the same way his mum would when she got done with the shower. Louis caught sight of himself in the mirror and realized that with both of their hair up in towels, he and his mum’s faces looked a lot alike. For some reason, this chilled Louis even more, which he then felt guilty about. He dried his hair briskly and tossed the wet towel on the floor before returning to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. 

Louis put the kettle on and watched the kids walking up the street on their way to school. He thought about his younger siblings. The twins wouldn’t be in school for a while, but Lottie, Fizzie, Daisy and Phoebe all were. He checked the time. It was just after nine in the morning, and they would all still be in classes. He felt a pang of nostalgia. Even though they were all his half siblings, he loved them so much it ached. He definitely had a huge older brother complex, but then again, so did Zayn, which made things work. Louis was overprotective as all get out, but he needed someone to look after him, too. Zayn was his rock, even though Louis was technically a bit older. 

The kettle whistled, and Louis shook himself from his daydreams. He made his cup of tea and poked his head into Zayn’s room. Zayn was still asleep, curled up in the duvet and next to the wall, and Niall had migrated up the bed, and was currently spooning the daylights out of Zayn. Louis grinned and took a picture with his mobile, saving it for future blackmailing opportunities. He decided not to wake them, and instead sat in the living room. He stretched out on the futon and turned on the television. He watched a morning news show absentmindedly, only half taking in the information. He was busying himself taking artistic snapchats of the way the morning light was striping across the wood floors to send to Lottie, when he got a snapchat from Harry Styles. 

Louis opened it greedily, and was rewarded with a six second selfie of Harry, who was lying on a couch looking miserable. The caption read “I dont think im ever drinking again”. Louis laughed, and decided to be a bit bold, and send back a selfie of his own. He posed for the shot, holding his tea up and trying to look angelic (the soft rays of sunlight were definitely working in his favor). 

He captioned it “think i smoked my hangover away lst nite”. It was risky, he thought, but if Harry was uptight about weed, things probably wouldn’t work out anyways. A couple seconds later, Harry had replied with a pouting selfie and the caption “jellllly”.   
Louis aimed his camera at the bong sitting on the coffee table and sent the resulting snap to Harry, along with an invitation to smoke someday. The selfie Harry replied with made Louis weak at the knees-his big, bright, goofy smile was adorable and if Louis wasn’t so concerned about looking like a creep, he would have taken a screenshot of it. 

He finished his tea just as Niall came into the living room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Morning, Lou,” he said, yawning loudly. Louis smiled at him and stretched, cracking his back. 

“Hey, Ni,” he said softly. “Sleep well?”

Niall shook his head, grimaced, and rubbed his back. “Got a crick in me back from sleeping at the end of the bed. Not gonna catch me crash like that again, no matter how cuddly you lot are.”

“You’ve been saying that for years, mate,” Louis chuckled. Niall always bitched about getting cramps in his back, but it never stopped him from occasionally crashing with Zayn and Louis. 

“I know, I know,” Niall said, flopping down on the other couch in the room. “Ugh, I’m hungover as fuck, Louis.”

“Smoking didn’t help last night?”

“Nah, I was way more pissed than I should have been. It’s my own fault,” said Niall. 

“I’m telling you mate, it’s a natural hangover cure,” Louis said, sliding the bong towards his miserable friend. “Smoke up. It’ll help. You should know this by now,” he admonished. 

Niall chuckled weakly and sparked the bowl. “Isn’t that the truth?” he said, before inhaling a chestful of smoke. 

“Is Zayn still asleep?” Louis asked, checking the time on the TV. “It’s half ten.”

“On a Sunday, Lou,” Niall said around a mouth of smoke. “Normal people sleep in on Sundays.”

Louis grabbed the bong from in front of Niall and hit it. “He’s wasting daylight. Smoking time.”

“Every time is smoking time, Louis,” Niall said with mock seriousness. 

Louis laughed. “It’s 4:20 all the time in this apartment.” He eyed the bong water suspiciously. It was a nasty shade of swamp green. If Harry was going to come over and smoke, Louis definitely had to do something about it. The bong was not fit for company, and was potentially a health hazard. He hit the last bit of weed in the bowl and tapped the ash into a cup on the coffee table. 

“We need to clean this,” he said, gesturing at the bong. His head felt hazy, like it usually did when he smoked on an empty stomach. 

Niall was studying the bong. “We’ve let it get worse than this before.”

Louis sighed impatiently. “Yes, I know, but let’s try to better ourselves, shall we? Change the bong water more than once a month?”

“Whatever you want, Louis,” Niall said, leaning back against the sofa. “Knock yourself out.”

Sighing much more dramatically than was necessary, Louis took the bong to the kitchen and dumped the opaque water down the drain. He rinsed it with hot water for a while, before deciding that the situation was dire, and he needed to use more advanced tools. He fetched rubbing alcohol from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and salt from the counter next to the stove. He dumped both into the bong and shook it around, watching the grime slide off the glass slides as he swirled the piece. Louis dumped the nasty alcohol down the drain and rinsed the bong until it no longer tasted like alcohol. He leaned it upside down in the drying rack and wiped his hands on the striped towel they kept by the sink. 

He was fishing a cigarette out of Zayn’s coat pocket (again) when Zayn made his way out of his bedroom, looking bedraggled. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Louis said brightly, lighting the cigarette on the stove burner. “Sleep alright?” 

Zayn nodded and shuffled to the fridge, grabbing a carton of Greek yogurt. He leaned against the counter and ate it standing. Louis waited until he looked a bit more awake before saying “Zayn?” 

“Slept alright, yeah,” the other boy said. “Fell asleep with you next to me and woke up a bit and Niall was next to me. Like my bed’s a revolving door.”

“Yeah, I got a bit of an early start this morning,” Louis said. 

Zayn looked at him. “You do seem rather unusually chipper this morning. Did you get up to something?” 

Louis brought his hand to his chest, feigning shock. “What would I do? I took a shower and had a nice cup of tea and watched a bit of telly. Totally innocent.”

“You’ve been texting Harry Styles,” Zayn said knowingly. 

Louis cursed internally. Damn Zayn and his uncanny perception. “If you must know, I found out he smokes this morning. He’s going to chill with me sometime. I cleaned the bong,” he gestured to the glass drying next to the sink. 

“Aren’t you meant to be his tutor? Like you shouldn’t encourage him to slack off anymore than he does already,” Zayn lectured. Louis put his fingers in his ears. 

“All three of us smoke all the time and do just fine with our studies, and you know it.”

“Harry’s younger than us,” Zayn said. 

“And we’ve been smoking for ages and nothing horrible has happened,” Louis shot back. 

“No need to get snippy,” Zayn said mildly, chucking the yogurt carton in the trash. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis muttered, but he wasn’t upset. Not really, anyways. If he didn’t have Zayn to act as his conscience when his called in sick, he’d be a lot worse off. He took a couple drags off his cigarette before passing it to Zayn. 

“What are your plans today?” Zayn asked. Louis sighed and looked out the window. 

“I’ve got some work to do. Lit review due, and all that.”

“Are you going to campus?”

“I was, but I think I’m actually going to set up in the kitchen and do work here. I don’t feel like going outside. It’s snowing,” Louis said, pointing at the flakes falling outside. 

“I’ve got a paper due in my Renaissance art class,” Zayn said. “We could have a study party or something? Snacks and everything.” 

Louis nodded eagerly. “That sounds loads better than languishing in the library for five million hours.” 

They set up at the kitchen table, with a bowl of chips and cans of beer. Zayn cranked the heater and Niall eventually joined them from the living room, to work on something for his business law class.   
The three of them worked into the afternoon, snacking and working steadily. Louis’ literature review was an intimidating assignment, but he had solid sources to work with, and had a good grasp of the central questions. He had chosen to look at the literature surrounding the treatment of accidental overdoses in the emergency rooms of rural hospitals. He’d gotten a good rhythm going, citing extensively and repeatedly thanking any higher being for the existence of bibliography software. 

Around four, they’d run out of both snack food and beer, and Louis volunteered to walk to the bodega around the corner. He bundled himself up in Zayn’s thick peacoat, which was more than a little broad in the shoulders, pulled his wool beanie down over his ears, and wound a scarf around his neck. He laced up his boots, grabbed his headphones and one more cigarette from Zayn, and headed out the door into the snow flurries. 

Louis felt a sense of worn familiarity wash over him. This was a walk he made many times, and he wondered how many times he’d done it, how many more times he’d walk to the same store, and whether he’d remember this in forty years. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts swirling in his mind. Louis lit the cigarette and focused on the walk he was experiencing in the present. He had a suspicion that the reason he felt disconnected from reality frequently had to do with his penchant for getting lost in his memories and overthinking the intricacies of time and the capacity of human memory. 

His eyes swept over the paint peeling off the sides of the houses, the gray slush in the gutters, and the litter that never seemed to actually go away. He felt so far away from the life he lived back in Doncaster. He scolded himself again, and redoubled his efforts to keep his mind on the present. Louis was listening to Conor Oberst croon about love gone bad as he rounded the corner and onto the block with the store. He let himself get lost in the music as he stood outside the store, finishing his cigarette. He ground it into the concrete with the heel of his boot and walked into the store. 

Louis picked up some Doritos, a twelve pack of lager, and got a pack of cigarettes and blunt wraps before paying with his debit card. He slung the plastic bag over his wrist and headed out of the store. He considered the liquor store, but then remembered it was Sunday. 

Louis had completed his errands, and his sense of restlessness had almost abated. He put in his headphones and resolutely tried to drown out his thoughts with loud music and another cigarette on the walk back to the apartment. 

When he returned to the apartment, Niall and Zayn had seemingly more or less abandoned their schoolwork and were huddled with their heads close together, peering at something on the screen of Zayn’s laptop. Louis dropped the bag on the table, took of his winter clothes, and walked up behind them. 

“What’s so interesting?” he asked, before realizing that Niall had definitely just navigated away from Harry Styles’ Facebook profile. 

“Nothing, just Facebook,” Niall said far too casually. 

“You two are stalking Harry,” Louis accused. Zayn looked up at him, his eyes half hooded. 

“Just some reconnaissance. Gotta be sure you’re not falling for a sociopath,” he offered.

“I’m not falling for anyone!” Louis insisted, throwing his hands up. 

“Oh, but you are, Tommo. You’re wearing your emotions on your sleeve with this one,” Niall said, and Louis had to give it to him, he wasn’t wrong. Niall was really becoming quite a keen fellow in his maturing age, Louis thought to himself. He decided to leave the issue where it lay and cracked open a can of Narragansett instead. 

“We’re going to need to talk to Chelsea soon,” Zayn said. Chelsea was their dealer, a film student who lived on the other side of the campus. 

“Oh? Are we running out?” Louis asked. He picked through the ashtray on the table to see if any of the cigarette butts were actually roaches.

“We’ll need more by tomorrow,” said Zayn. “I’ll text her tonight if you want to drive over or I could run by between classes tomorrow.”

Louis thought it over for a minute, and decided that he’d actually like to see Chelsea and agreed to drive over later that night. He took his beer into his room and snuggled into his duvet. 

Louis popped a pirated copy of The Social Network into his laptop and packed his bubbler with some of the tiny nugs still left in his jar. Zayn was right; he thought to himself, they were going to need more soon. He was enjoying his movie and the comfy atmosphere very much. The weed had made him feel lazy and warm, and the smoke was swirling in the weak late afternoon light. His phone buzzed, startling him a bit. It was a snapchat from Harry. 

Louis tapped on the icon and looked at the picture Harry had sent. It was a snowy river bank, taken like Harry’d pointed the phone down at his boots, which were dusted with snow and almost up to the frosted edge of the water. There wasn’t a caption. 

He felt his heart swell a bit. Harry was adventurous and enigmatic, and Louis liked that, a lot more than he probably should. He sent back a snap of his current set up in bed: laptop, bubbler and duvet. He resolutely shoved his phone under his pillow so he wasn’t tempted to refresh the app obsessively. 

It was rather hard to focus on the movie, however. After failing for a quarter of an hour, Louis got out of bed, put on a sweatshirt and thick wool socks, and went back into the kitchen. Zayn was at the kitchen table, messing around with what looked like broken up CD’s and wire, obviously some avant garde art school project. 

“I’m restless. I’m gonna head over to Chelsea’s. Did you text her?” Louis asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Yeah, I did. Lemme get my wallet,” Zayn said, shoving back from the table to get his part of the money as Louis shouted to Niall. 

Louis waited in the kitchen for a bit before getting bored of loafing around while his friends scrambled to get their money. He went into Zayn’s room and propped himself up against the dresser. 

“Same amount as usual?” Louis asked, as Zayn handed him a crisp stack of bills. Niall bounded in the room and almost collided with Louis. The wad of money he shoved at Louis was a bit damp and had some questionable lint stuck to it. 

“Thanks, Niall,” Louis said, sarcasm evident in his voice as he pinched the money with his fingertips. “I am praying that this is not soaked in ball sweat. Please don’t shatter my illusions,” he said, tucking the money into his pocket. 

“D’you want me to go with you?” Niall asked, almost too innocently for Louis’ liking. 

“It’s alright,” Louis said casually. He wanted to avoid whatever man-to-man talk he had a feeling Niall was brewing up in that blond head of his. “I’ll see you lads later,” he called, before he was striding out of Zayn’s room, into the kitchen, and out the door. He lit a cigarette on the way to the car, shoving his lighter and the cash into his pocket. 

Louis slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine before turning on the radio-he wanted to hear the weather report, and even though he knew his public radio habit was honed by years listening to the BBC, it was seen in America at best as quirky, and a bit trying to hard, and at worst like he took himself entirely too seriously and was overly concerned with appearing intellectual. He was relieved to hear that a warm spell was approaching, with the snow expected to melt by midweek. 

Louis maneuvered the car through the snowy streets, half listening to the radio and half looking at the houses he passed by, thinking about the people in each, imagining who they were and what they did. Louis had always wanted a nice house with a family. He smiled ruefully to himself as he realized that judging by the way he was raised, his hopes for long-term familial stability were far-fetched. 

Chelsea didn’t live too far away from them, just on the other side of campus than they lived on, but the roads were narrow and snowy. Louis cursed to himself, making sure he didn’t knock off anyone’s side mirrors as he inched down his dealer’s street. The last thing he needed was for his insurance rates to go up. Louis parked the car as near to the curb as he could, and slammed the door. 

He made his way up the snowy path to the door of the house. Chelsea lived on the third floor, much to his annoyance. Louis climbed the narrow flights of stairs, dodging the trash and newspapers that littered the steps as he went. He banged on Chelsea’s scuffed and chipped blue-painted door. 

“Chels! It’s Louis!” he shouted. Chelsea lived with an even more ragtag group than he did. In fact, Louis wasn’t ever quite sure who actually lived at her apartment, there seemed to be a rotating cast of characters in the cramped space. He heard some scrambling and scraping from inside the apartment and leaned against the wood frame of the door, minding the splinters. 

Much to his (shock? horror? delight?) Chelsea was not the one who opened the door. In front of him, wearing faded black jeans and a white tee, with a fucking bandana around his head, was Harry Styles, looking very, very stoned. Louis’ tongue was quite possibly permanently adhered to the roof of his mouth. 

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry said, a smile stretching over his face. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“H-hi,” Louis managed to stammer. What did he do to vex the universe so immensely? He was wearing sweatpants and a ridiculous hoodie that he’d shrunk in the wash. He had a beanie on, for god’s sake, along with his glasses. In short, he was in no state to encounter Harry Fucking Styles. 

“Would you like to come in?” Harry asked, still smiling as he opened the door wider and stepped aside to let Louis through. It was all he could to do nod dumbly and walk into the familiar apartment. He followed Harry through the messy kitchen, and stopped to say hey to Mark, one of the regulars. Harry leaned against the doorframe to the parlor as Chelsea came out. 

She was a tiny blonde girl, who wore a lot of baggy pants that looked like tapestries and spoke with a slow, mellow voice, making her sound constantly stoned (which she probably was). Chelsea was definitely the consummate artist, paintings and sharpie drawings were splashed on the walls of the apartment. 

“Louis!” she said, drawing out the middle of his name and giving him a hug. “I haven’t seen you in a minute, you recluse,” she chided. “Gonna make a lady think you only want her for her green,” she said, pulling out a crushed pack of American Spirits. 

“D’you have a light?” she asked Mark, who handed her a Zippo. Louis reached for his own cigarette, and let her light his for him. 

“You know how it is, Chels,” he said around a mouthful of smoke. “Filled with a paralyzing sense of dread about my academic future and all that.” Bitching about school was always a surefire way to ease into a conversation with her, even though he had mixed feelings about how difficult a film program could actually be. 

“Tell me about it,” she said. “Harry and I have been working on visual literacy all afternoon. Or…we were supposed to,” she said, breaking off into giggles. “We got sidetracked with the marijuana. Do you know Harry, by the way? Wow, I’m rude. I should have introduced you earlier.” 

“I know Louis,” Harry said, reaching for the cigarette pack dangling out of Chelsea’s hand. “He’s my biology tutor.”

“No shit!” Chelsea said, laughing. “Small fuckin’ world.” She cocked her head towards the parlor. “Wanna come in and chill for a bit, Louis?” 

“Sure,” he said, following her into the room. Harry followed him in, and he felt heat rush up the back of his neck. He sat down on an overstuffed and overburdened sofa and Harry sat down next to him, increasing his heart rate exponentially. Louis pressed two fingers covertly against his wrist and felt the flutter of his pulse against his skin. He really needed to get control of himself. 

“How was the party last night?” He made himself ask Harry, looking into his green eyes. Harry and Chelsea both laughed.

“It was a shitshow,” Harry admitted. “We left before the cops broke it up, but you know, usual rugby stuff.”

“It was a good time,” Chelsea laughed, before passing Louis a joint she’d had waiting. “Rugby parties are belligerent by nature.”

He puffed on the joint, admiring the paper she’d used. “I like these,” he said, exhaling smoke. “If I could find papers like these, maybe I’d try rolling joints.”

“Yeah, blunts’ll kill your lungs,” Chelsea admonished. “They’re actually Harry’s. He brought them over for me. He’s hopeless at rolling.” 

Harry nodded. “I’ve got big, clumsy hands,” he explained, flexing them for Louis to see. He swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to shove thoughts of Harry’s big, clumsy hands all over his naked body far, far away.   
“I always rip rolling papers,” Louis heard himself saying. “I can only handle blunt wraps.”

Harry leaned back against the armrest and appraised him. “That’s probably the most thug thing I’ve heard in a while. A white boy from Doncaster who can only roll blunts. I love it.”

Louis legitimately thought he might pass out on the very spot. 

“Where’s Doncaster?” Chelsea asked. “I thought you were from England. Wait, both of you are. Holy fuckin’ shit,” she laughed. 

“Doncaster’s in England,” Louis explained. “Harry and I didn’t grow up too far from each other, though.” He cursed himself for saying it. 

“It’s hard to grasp, if you’re from the states. The UK is different,” Harry explained. 

“That’s so weird,” Chelsea said, puffing on the joint. “I can’t believe I know two people two different ways who are from the same foreign country. Weirdness.” 

“You know more than two people,” Louis said. “You know Zayn and Niall.”

“Holy shit, I’m so cultured,” Chelsea laughed. “You’d like them,” she said to Harry. “Do you know them?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” Harry drawled. Louis felt his insides turn to mush when Harry said ‘pleasure’. He had literally no control. 

“They’re fab,” Chelsea assured. “You’d like them. I see a lot of Zayn,” she said. “And too little of Louis.”

She squeezed his knee over the coffee table. “I’m glad you came over. I was starting to worry about you.”

Louis squirmed a bit. The last thing he wanted was for Harry Styles to catch onto what a mess he actually was. 

“Well, I’m here now, love,” he replied, stroking her knuckles. “No need to worry about little old me.” Nice save, Tomlinson, he told himself. She smiled warmly back at him and tightened her grip on his knee for a millisecond. Louis felt lucky that he knew people who cared about him. 

“So, how much do y’all need?” She asked, having shifted into dealer mode. Louis grabbed the wad of cash out of his pocket. 

“An ounce?” he said, pushing the money towards her. She didn’t even count it before putting the cash into her bra, a gesture of good faith - Louis knew. Chelsea crawled next to the couch and unlocked a safe next to the TV. She pulled out a huge bag of weed and measured it out before loading it into a smaller baggie and handing it to Louis. He shoved it into his pocket and took the joint as it came back around. He hit it, before passing it to Harry. Their fingers touched briefly, and his nerves electrified. Louis liked it. 

They sat in stoned silence for half an hour, watching Family Guy on the telly, before Louis felt the telltale restlessness settle into his bones. 

“I should get going,” he said, getting up from the couch and stretching. 

“Me, too,” Harry said. “I’ve been over here for like, twenty four hours. My mum’ll wonder if I drowned.” 

Louis felt all his senses go on high alert. Harry Styles was leaving at the same time as him. Did this mean anything? If it did, what the fuck?

Chelsea yawned loudly. “I should take a nap. At least now I won’t feel like a bad hostess,” she said, laughing softly. She escorted the two to the door of the small and smoke filled apartment, and waved to them as they went down the stairs. 

Louis and Harry made their way onto the dark Providence street. Louis didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he fished out his pack of cigarettes before offering it to Harry, who took one before producing a lighter and lighting Louis’ cigarette off his own. 

“Where do you live?” Louis asked, trying to ease the awkward silence. 

“Woonsocket,” Harry said, leaning against the side of the building. 

“And you come to Providence for class?” Louis asked. It was at least a half hour drive, not one he’d want to make daily. 

“Liam drives me. He lives in Lincoln,” Harry said by way of explanation. 

“Makes sense,” Louis said, kicking slush with his foot. The two stood in silence, smoking. 

“So…how do you get home?” Louis asked.

“I take the bus,” Harry said. Louis paused for a minute. He wanted to drive Harry Styles home. He wanted to kiss him at his doorstep. But he didn’t want to sound like a complete crazy person. 

Before he knew it, his stupid mouth was acting without his permission.

“I could drive you home,” he said, feeling like he had no control over what his mouth was spouting. 

Harry Styles grinned at him. “Really?” he asked. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

Louis shook his head mutely, and unlocked the door to his car.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. I realize it's been over a year since this has been updated. I got my hip replaced and started my masters degree, but there hasn't been a day where I haven't thought about this fic. Thanks for reading.

They sat in silence for half a second, Louis wondering what he’d got himself into, before Harry grabbed the thin cord to connect his phone to the cassette player. Louis lit another cigarette before he realized what Harry was playing.

“Fall Out Boy? What a throwback,” he remarked, putting the car into reverse.

“Fall Out Boy are perfect,” Harry said. “They’ve stayed with me for a long time.” Louis felt a bit odd, like maybe he wasn’t aware of the gravity of the statement.

“So,” he said, idling at the corner. “What’s your address?” He handed his phone to Harry, Maps app already open. Harry typed in his address, and Louis noticed it wasn’t as far away as he’d thought it’d be.

Louis pulled onto a main road and caught Harry drumming his hands on his knees. He smiled, knowing Niall did the same thing.

“So, how do you know Chelsea, Harry Styles?” Louis asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant. Harry propped his knee up near the air vent.

“She was in my orientation group, and now we’re in the same visual literacy class. Chelsea’s a good girl to know,” Harry said, looking sideways at Louis.

He laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. She’s cool,” Louis said, tapping the ash off his cigarette out the window. They merged onto the highway, Louis’ car making only slightly displeased noises at the higher speeds. Harry lit him another cigarette a little later, and when their knuckles brushed Louis had to grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. He sucked the smoke into his lungs, hoping it would help dissipate the weird clenching feeling he felt in his chest.

They made their way across the tiny state of Rhode Island, following narrow highways up the river valley and into the foothills where Woonsocket was nestled. He drove his tiny car across a huge rock quarry and into the old mining town. His GPS steered him through more narrow streets, until finally, they arrived at a cul-de-sac in a faded, industrial part of town. Harry directed him in front of a dilapidated red house. Louis parked his car behind a scuffed teal Oldsmobile. The two stepped out of the car. Louis shoved his hands in his pockets. It had stopped snowing, but it was still cold out. Harry lit another cigarette and leaned against the front bumper of Louis’ car.

“This is my mum’s place,” he said, nodding towards the building. “We’ve lived here for almost two years.” Silence filled the air for a moment.

“We?” Louis asked, joining Harry at the front of the car.

“My mum, my sister, and my nephew,” he explained.

“Oh,” Louis said, digging his cigarette pack out of his pocket. He knew he was smoking like a chimney because he was nervous, but he couldn’t help himself. He especially couldn’t help himself when Harry’s big hands were flicking open a Zippo so he could light up.

“Wanna sit on the steps?” Harry asked, inclining his head towards the chipped wooden stairs leading up to the porch. Louis nodded and followed him over. Their thighs were touching, and his nerve endings felt electrified again.

Harry dug around in a flower pot next to the steps for a moment before producing a battered metal pipe. “Can I smoke you out for driving me home?” He asked, producing a small bag of weed from his pocket. “My mum doesn’t care as long as it’s not actually inside the house,” he said, as Louis looked nervously at the brightly lit facade.

“After this,” Louis said, waving the cigarette. “Don’t want to be wasteful.” Harry nodded in agreement, stretching his long legs toward the front end of the car. They only sat in silence for a moment, before Harry restarted the playlist on his phone, setting it between them. The tinny speakers pumped out music, and Louis felt like this was one of the moments that would be burned in his memory forever; something new and something wonderful.

“I hear it might stop snowing next week,” Harry mentioned.

“Weather’s so weird,” Louis said, blowing smoke rings into the clear, starlit night. “I heard that on the radio earlier.”

“Guess we’ll have another soggy and brown Thanksgiving,” Harry said.

“The weather’s actually not all that nice here,” Louis mused.

“No, it’s shitty,” Harry chuckled, a pleasant sound that made Louis’ chest feel warm. He ground his cigarette into the bottom step with the heel of his boot and cracked his knuckles. Harry began packing the metal bowl with practiced efficiency, much to Louis’ admiration. He offered him the first hit, which Louis took gratefully. Louis leaned back on the steps, resting his elbows on the cold concrete. He handed the bowl back to Harry and watched him out of the corners of his eye. They passed it back and forth to each other, sitting in silence and smoke. Louis felt like he needed to break the quiet, to say something, but each time he thought of something to say, the words died before they reached his lips. He didn’t know what to say, and didn’t want to say anything that made him sound like an asshole.

His phone vibrated against his thigh, startling him from his secret staring. He grumbled and pulled it out of the pocket of his sweatpants. He’d missed several texts from both Niall and Zayn..oops. He probably should have let them know he was basically driving to Massachusetts. Louis sent a quick message to their group text letting them know he was alive and would be back soon. He groaned internally at the thought of them grilling him about who he was with, and he knew if Zayn saw Chelsea at any point, the secret would be out anyways, and he’d might as well just own up to it when he got home.

Louis set his phone face down so he wouldn’t be bothered by it, and tried to direct his thoughts to the present moment (the one where he was smoking a bowl with Harry Styles). He decided he’d better make some conversation so he didn’t sound like a total knobhead.

“So do you like living here? In Rhode Island?” he asked, aiming to keep his voice casual and not shrill.

Harry passed the bowl and lighter to him and gazed up at the sky, stars obscured by misty clouds. “I’ve lived here for a long time. It’s home now,” he paused. “But do I like it? It’s weird, you fall into one group when you’re fifteen and that’s it. That’s who you are. It’s hard to change,” he acknowledged.

Louis swallowed, trying to think of a response to that. “That sounds…rough,” he settled on. He got the sense that Harry was beginning to open up to him. After all, that was an awfully deep statement. Then again, he reminded himself, he’d been known to wax philosophic when he was stoned, so maybe it was nothing at all.

“It can be,” Harry said. “It got better once I started going to RIC. Not too many kids in my old crowd go to school, and if they do, they go to the community college. It’s just you know, I still live here, I come back here if I don’t stay with someone during the week and it can be hard to remember that I don’t have to be who I was before.”

Louis flexed his fingers, even more unsure how to react this time. He wished he could tell him that he knew how he felt, how it was to feel split and pulled in different directions. He wanted to tell him that for most of the time he had lived in Rhode Island, he felt like he was drowning inside himself. Harry saved him from saying something foolish, though, by clearing his throat gruffly and saying, “Hah, sorry, I ramble a bit when I smoke.”

Jumping at a chance for a safer topic of conversation, Louis said, “Me too, I’m bad but not as bad as Zayn. He gets obnoxious. Can’t wrap me head around half of what he says.”

Harry smiled at that. “He sounds fun. We could talk in circles.”

A beat passed, Louis trying to figure out what he meant by that when Harry tapped the bowl out on the sidewalk and fingered two cigarettes out of the crumpled pack in his back pocket.

“I’m not trying to kick you out, but I kind of have to get inside soon. Gotta catch up on my homework and all that before our study sesh tomorrow, you know.” Harry passed Louis one of the cigarettes before heaving his tall body up off the stoop and then offering Louis one of his big hands.

He grasped it, and let Harry help him up. The moment Harry let go of his hand, Louis shoved it in his pocket, trying not to betray his shaking fingers.

“It’s cool,” he said, voice level (here’s hoping?) “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Louis walked to his car and unlocked the door in a blessedly smooth gesture, no wiggling the key or anything, and turned to look at Harry before getting inside.

Harry smiled his wide, slow spreading smile at him, and said, “Text me when you get home, I want to know you made it safe.” Louis nodded, smiled at him (hoping he didn’t look completely besotted) and sunk into the car. He backed out of the small concrete space and onto the street, managing to not bump into anything or knock any rubbish bins over, and waited until he was stopped at a stoplight to put his address in the GPS on his phone. He was fourteen miles from his apartment, and about a half hour drive, not too bad. Louis followed the directions to the highway and switched on the radio, wishing he had Harry in the car to pick the music, take his mind off the drive, which wasn’t long, but still a bit nervewracking with a bunch of weed in his shitty car.

Louis only made it home five minutes off schedule, and quickly parked the car so he could get inside and relax. Hopefully Zayn and Niall weren’t too pissed at him, he really had to get better about letting them know where he was going. As soon as he opened the door to the apartment, he was met with Zayn and Niall’s eager sodding faces staring at him from the table.

“Honestly, lads?” He asked, tossing his muffler and his coat onto the floor before kicking his wet trainers into the pile.

“Yes, honestly, if you’re going to disappear like that you’d bloody well expect us to have questions when you finally decide to show up,” Zayn admonished.

“Zayn’s just being coy, he texted Chelsea and she told him that you left with one Harry Styles,” Niall said, his eyes dancing.

Louis huffed and dug in his pocket for the weed. “If you’re QUITE finished, I’ve got what I went out for,” he handed the bag over to Zayn, who was turning on the scale they kept in the middle of the table to weigh it out.

When he sat down at the table, Niall turned to him to bombard him with more questions. “So you have nothing to say for yourself? You fuck off for hours, no call, no text?”

Louis had to laugh at that. “Ni, you’re turning into me mum, you should hear yourself.”

“Well, your mum’s fit as fuck, I’m not bothered,” Niall cackled, and Louis was compelled to punch him in the arm. Zayn just rolled his eyes at the two of them and continued to roll the blunt.

“Anyways, yes, I was with Harry,” Louis said, trying to keep his voice neutral, in case the tone police jumped all over him.

“Was it cool?” Zayn asked him, turning his big brown eyes on Louis, who shuffled his feet on the floor.

“Yeah. He’s cool. We listened to Fall Out Boy,” Louis answered. Damn Zayn and his ability to get him to open up. “He smoked me out, too. Nice manners.”

“Important, that,” Niall acknowledged around a mouth of crisps. Louis smacked him again.

“What? It is!” Niall exclaimed, spewing crumbs on the tabletop. Zayn distracted them from their squalling by lighting the blunt and blowing smoke in their faces.

“I mean, can you imagine if someone had horrible manners with blunts?” Niall continued, looking pointedly at Zayn, who still hadn’t passed it yet.

“We didn’t smoke a blunt,” countered Louis, snatching the blunt from Zayn’s fingertips. “He had a bowl, and we hung out for a bit. I’m just saying, it was a nice time.”

Zayn fixed his owlish gaze on him. “So it was a nice time, then? That’s an awful bland description.”

“You know it’s a matter of time before I fuck it up, so you won’t be held in suspense for long,” Louis said bitterly. There was silence for a bit, with just the noise of rattling pipes and the TV on in the living room filling the background.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” Niall asked. If Louis’ eyes could roll out of his head and across the floor, they would. 

“No, I don’t,” he said shortly. He could feel Zayn and Niall’s eyes on him, and knew that for better or for worse, they could both see through any facade he tried. “Really, it was cool and I drove him home, we smoked, now I’m here. I don’t want to talk about anything else, honestly, let’s not ruin it with psychoanalyzation, lads,” Louis said, feeling tired to the core. 

Mercifully, they let it be. They finished the blunt, Niall microwaved chicken nuggets and was rummaging around in the kitchen by the time Louis decided that a bath might be a good idea. Well, his idea of a bath, which involved sitting on the floor of the shower as the water poured down on top of him until the water ran cold. Zayn had gone off into his room and Louis could hear the Law and Order SVU theme coming from his door. 

He tossed his towels on the closed toilet lid and cranked the water on as hot as he could get it. His clothes on the floor, Louis turned to face his reflection. Again, he was reminded of all the parts of him he wished he could distract people from, his collection of tattoos littered across his torso and arms, though the layer of fat on his belly that was just too much for his crazy brain to handle maybe looked a bit smaller? That could have been wishful thinking on his part. Louis stared at his eyes, the dark shadows beneath them, and how his scruff was starting to grow back in. He looked more like a junkie than someone who was supposed to be a healthcare professional. 

Louis climbed into the shower/tub combo and lowered himself to sit in the tub. The shower spray was beating down on him, hot enough to sting his skin in a very cathartic (fucked up?) way. He didn’t even remotely care that he didn’t know the last time they’d cleaned the tub was as he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them. Louis watched the water fall in rivulets off his hair, trailing down his face, like he was crying. He didn’t cry, though, even though he wondered if it would make him feel better. Instead he zoned out, just letting his mind wander as the water poured down on him. 

Louis wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been sitting on the floor of the shower when a loud banging interrupted his thoughts wandering. 

“Lou? Louis? Are you okay?” Niall shouted. “You’ve been in there for ages, mate!” 

Louis lifted his head and shook the water out of his face as much as he could and shut off the water. He climbed out of the tub and wrapped himself in his towels before reaching for the doorknob Niall was obviously shaking. He opened the door and Niall appeared like he was trying to figure out what facial expression he should be wearing. Louis assumed he was going for casual, but it looked strained. Maybe he’d been in there forever and Niall needed the toilet. 

“Sorry, Ni,” Louis said, turning sideways to squeeze past Niall, who didn’t immediately rush into the bathroom or call him a wanker for hogging the loo. Instead, Niall had sort of just hovered in the doorway, but still looking at Louis. 

“What?” Louis asked, tugging his towel tighter around himself. 

“It’s just, you were in there for a while,” Niall said.

“Yes, and I have just apologized for that,” Louis pointed out to the other boy. 

“I was worried about you,” Niall said, “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t drown yourself in there.”

Louis felt something like annoyance fizz up in his stomach. “I’m fine. I told you and Zayn earlier,” he said, stalking into his bedroom and resolutely closing the door. He dropped his towels on the floor and climbed straight into bed, soaking wet or not. Louis pulled his phone out from under the duvet and checked to see if he had any notifications. There was a message from Harry:

[22:38] Did you make it home ok?

Shit, he’d forgotten to text Harry to let him know he’d gotten home. Louis added this to his mental accounting of his daily failings as he tapped out a response

[23:14} yeah i did, sorry abt that, took a super long shower and lost track of the time 

He pressed send before he had a chance to rethink the line about the shower. Louis felt like he was full of potential energy, at the same time hurtling with inertia to some sort of boiling point with Harry. Well, he was fairly sure that wasn’t how physics worked, but he was a health science person. Louis set his phone down and readjusted his pillows and duvet to make them acceptable for sleeping. He tamped down a brief desire to go sleep in Zayn’s room, but he knew that he’d just be subjected to some sort of heart-to-heart that he wholeheartedly wanted to avoid. Instead, he focused on getting his sleeping space as comfortable and cozy as humanly possible. 

Louis pulled on some soft sweats and a stretched out tee before climbing into his relaxation nest, hair still dripping wet. He made himself wait a full minute before slipping his hand underneath his pillow to grab his phone. Again, he made himself wait as long as he could before checking to see if Harry had texted him back. He made it a full twenty seconds before he opened the messages app and read Harry’s text:

[23:18] that sounds perfect tho honestly. glad you made it back safely :) see you tmrrw x

Louis felt his smile start behind his eyes before spreading to his face. How could a bunch of words on a screen and the possibility of seeing this one person completely shift his gravity like this? His fingers flew across the screen, caution be damned. 

[23:20] tomorrow x (: 

He put his phone on airplane mode so he wouldn’t be tempted to check it during the night. If Harry texted him again, he’d get read the message in the morning and NOT spend the whole night waiting up for a text that might never come. It was beyond absurd that he was having these thoughts this early on into whatever was going on with him and Harry. The bitter, petty part of his brain reminded him that there was absolutely nothing going on between him and Harry. If he were lucky, Harry was just a friendly guy. In all reality, Harry probably pitied him, or thought he was too much, or weird, or something. 

Cursing himself again and again, but knowing that this was the best he was going to be able to do, Louis dry swallowed a Xanax and closed his eyes, focusing on clenching them shut to keep from seeing the things about himself and his life that he absolutely hated play out in a tableau of flashbacks. It didn’t help, though, and he was forced to relive every time he’d let himself get his hopes up about a guy, only for something to happen. Sleep eventually came for him, and he wouldn’t remember his fitful dreams when he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh lord, if you recognize anything from this it's from a story I started two years ago. Please excuse all my feelings spilling all over the place.


End file.
